The Last of Us
by Remember
Summary: Dracula's ascension to world domination is nearly complete, but a prophecy & a woman both stand in his way. Although he enjoys the challenge of coaxing her to his side of the board, failure would ensure his ultimate destruction. And where the delicate scales of good & evil are concerned, there is no room for error. Post-film. Futuristic/PAW/AU-ish. Please read & review!
1. Chapter 1

**[NOTE: cover image is an edit of a photo by Emilia Jane Photography. Link to original in my profile. NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT INTENDED. ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO ORIGINAL ARTIST.]**

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><p><strong>Well my lovelies, the day has finally come. It's been over a year since I finished <strong>_la douleur exquise _**and started working on this story. It's also been six months since I last posted anything. I apologize for the horrendous wait, but I wanted to get this one right and before I go away so you can read, I need to do a couple of things first, so bear with me and this slightly lengthy author's note. **

**THANK YOUS: For starters, I have to give a HUGE public thank you to **_sleepy bibliophile_**, who, quite literally, came to my rescue in the eleventh hour to beta this story for me. She is a class act and I couldn't have done this without her. So my dear, thank you. Thank you a hundred times over. Also, another tremendous thank you to **_Roux Barcelone_**, who helped me craft a tighter summary and a better title than what I had initially. You're the greatest! Thank you for letting me bounce ideas off of you!  
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**DISCLAIMERS: This little ditty is the product of me biting off WAY more than I could chew. I got crazy ambitious and experimental and honestly, right now I'm just _slightly_ terrified. I mean, don't get me wrong. Overall I'm rather pleased with how this turned out (all things considered), but I'm still so nervous. I just hope you all enjoy it and that it was worth the wait. And I'm warning you right now, most of these chapters are **_**long**_**. So strap in, my friends! You're in for quite the ride. **

**A REMINDER: Remember that one-shot I wrote like six months ago about Raynora, one of the bastard daughters of Boris Valerious, accidentally bringing Dracula back to life****? Well, Raynora's fraternal twin sister, Verena (who was mentioned at the end of said one-shot) is a key character in this story. Many of you wanted to know what happened to her. So... now you get to find out. Not all at once, mind you, but yeah - answers! **

**THE** **MUSIC: **Music plays an integral part in my writing process. Influences for this story include copious amounts of Russian opera ****(which bleeds into the story come chapter 11)****, Mozart _and _Verdi's individual renditions of the Requiem mass ****(particularly the _Dies Irae _movement for Verdi and _Confutatis_ and_ Lacrimosa _for Mozart)****, tons of Chopin, _lots_ of religious themed acapella numbers ****(some of which will be mentioned specifically in later chapters)****, and an assortment of music composed by Thomas Bergersen ****(especially"Hadrian's Demon" from the _Colin Frake _soundtrack for a certain something which will come in chapter 26 if I remember correctly)****. ****

**A NOTE ON RESURRECTIONS & REVAMPS: One final thing to mention before I toddle off to hide in a corner and have an anxiety attack (kidding) – for those that don't already know, there is a poll (and a more thorough explanation) in my profile that has to do with me resurrecting and revamping selections of my older work (pending on how well this story does). I'd love to hear your thoughts on the matter! And if your favorite story isn't listed in said poll, send me a PM or include it in your review.  
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**Okay, I'll shut up now so you can read the first chapter.  
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_**Forgive any errors I may have missed and enjoy the fan fiction. It's meant to amuse.**_

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><p><span><strong>RATED "M" FOR<strong>**: some language, sexual situations and dialogue, and **violence**  
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****TIME FRAME: Post-film. Futuristic, post-apocalyptic universe (like early AD 2300s maybe. I never did decide on a proper year). _Slight_ AU. ****

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><p><em><strong>The Last of Us<strong>_

"Old loves they die hard. Old lies they die harder."  
>Tuomas Holopainen of <em>Nightwish<br>I Wish I Had an Angel_

_**I**_

Over the last thousand years since his unanticipated resurrection in the summer of 1890, Count Dracula had managed to single-handedly influence four world wars, six society-crippling revolutions, and one genocide. Now that the age of mankind had transformed into an age of the vampire, his empire's roots were at long last impenetrable and everlasting.

He had become – in the most literal sense imaginable – indestructible.

Many had tried to overthrow him and all had failed. His power was too great, he had no definable weakness, and his revenge was pitiless and absolute. There was no crossing him, not without dire consequences.

And now, his newest bride – the last direct descendant of the Valerious bloodline – was with child, a _living_ child on the verge of coming into the world, a child that would change everything.

The conception of Dracula's daughter had been foretold in a prophecy by a powerful witch he had become allied with just three years prior. A surviving Valerious, who would bear the name of one of her ancestors, would conceive his child – a child of untold power and destruction. His dead seed would come to life in the womb of this descendent, and the babe would be born under a blood moon, in the dead of winter, exactly six months, six days, and six hours from its conception.

The fateful evening had finally come and a pair of dark, royal-blue eyes watched the slumbering mother from the shadows of the room, this woman's presence unknown to the female vampire simply because she wished to remain imperceptible, and so it was.

It was dangerous, being in Dracula's palace, and on an evening as important as this one, but Lailah had always taken her responsibilities very seriously – especially where the children of the Valerious line were concerned.

She had had a figurative hand in every conception and delivery of each descendant, ever since Valerious the Elder had adopted and raised Vlad Dracul, the boy who would become the means of his step-father's destruction. It was Lailah that had kept the line alive, she that had kept an assortment of illegitimate children hidden away all those years ago. The line, which had nearly reached extinction the night the monster hunter known only as Van Helsing had accidentally killed Princess Anna Valerious, had flourished under Lailah's watchful eye. That is, until a few years ago, when the prophecy had been made and the truth had been revealed.

She continued to observe the child's mother, just a few feet away, the female vampire's dark brown eyes now open as she watched the snow fall outside her window. Lailah couldn't help but notice how much the woman resembled her namesake – Anna Valerious; although Anneke Val, or Ana as she was more commonly known, was only similar in appearance to her long-dead ancestor and nothing more. She had become Dracula's bride of her own volition, though it had been after months of manipulation and eventually blackmail.

And now she was carrying his child.

It was rare for a vampire and a human to create a living child – or damphir as they were more commonly known – but until now, it had been impossible for two vampires to accomplish such a feat. _And yet, here we are – history in the making,_ Lailah mused silently to herself as the father entered the room, ordering the handful of heavily armed guards at the door to stay put.

Lailah's presence continued to go unnoticed as Dracula made his way over to the lavish bed, seating himself on its edge and gently caressing his bride's fair cheek – the action seemingly tender. The Count was a handsome man, with the frame of an ancient warrior, tall and immaculately fashioned – as if he had been carved from a block marble, constructed by a master sculpture. With chiseled cheekbones and a strong jaw, even the noblest of creatures couldn't deny his appeal.

"Is it time?" he asked Ana, the back of his fingers still resting against her cheek.

"Not quite yet, my lord," the young woman replied timidly, watching as the Count removed his hand from the side of her face and placed it on her swollen belly. The look in the man's eyes was one his bride had never seen before, though the unknown visitor recognized it and her cold, steely expression softened at the sight.

"I'm so close," he whispered, pressing his palm more firmly against Ana's belly so he could just barely feel the rounding of his daughter's head. "After so many years…"

He sighed heavily, looking suddenly weary. He had been fighting for this moment for the better part of his existence, and now he was just moments away from success.

"My lord?" Ana's voice pulled him out of whatever private thoughts he was having and he offered her a reassuring smile.

"Master?"

Dracula turned his attention to the door, finding his captain, a dark-skinned werewolf-vampire hybrid who went by the name Zane, standing in the hall outside.

"Yes, what is it?"

"She's requesting an audience with you, master."

The look of tenderness and affection that had softened his features disappeared as he sent the man a disapproving look.

"Surely it can wait."

"She was most insistent, your grace. Wanted me to tell you it was a matter of life and death."

Lailah watched the Count closely from the shadows, seeing the conflict in his eyes, but as it usually did, his bride came second and after placing a quick kiss on Ana's brow, he excused himself from the room, promising to return shortly.

The door was shut and guarded once again, Dracula's orders that no one was to enter the room until he was present echoing down the stone-laden corridor as the sound of his boot-clad footsteps eventually vanished into nothingness.

When the vampire king was gone, Lailah felt a change in the air and she glanced outside the window momentarily to find that the edge of the moon had taken on a reddish hue.

It was time.

As if on cue, Ana abruptly cried out as she felt the quickening in her womb, at first in surprise, and then in an astonishing amount of pain that temporarily knocked the wind out of her.

"Help! I need help!" Ana shouted as the door opened and a soldier peaked his head through.

"Is everything alright, my lady?"

"The baby is coming. The baby is coming NOW! Quick! Call the master back… at once!" the last word melting into a powerful scream, her fangs lengthening in her mouth as the pain overtook her in a violent and unanticipated wave.

Lailah continued to stand there in the shadows, watching Ana's suffering closely, yet remaining absolutely still as she did so. She wanted to help the woman – it was instinct, her nature, her calling – yet, she had explicit orders that she was not to intervene, and so she stood there, watching as Ana writhed in unspeakable pain all by herself. Lailah could smell the blood the instant it hit the air and it took everything in her to stay put and watch as Ana's nightgown turned scarlet red between her legs.

"Are you sure you want to be here alone for this?" a familiar voice said beside Lailah. She didn't have to turn to know who had joined her. Lailah took a deep breath and let it out slowly, holding her steely expression.

"I am certain, Raphael," she finally said, cringing just slightly at the sound of Ana's cries.

"You don't have to watch this," he assured her, and she could see out of the corner of her eye that he was studying her closely. "I know how much work you put into making sure that the Valerious line would survive. This can't be easy for you."

"No, it is not easy."

"The child will not survive its birth, Lailah."

"I know."

"If it did, only God knows what Dracula would use it for. It's bad enough that he's teamed up with that witch."

"_She_, Raphael. The baby is a _she_, not an _it_. I swear, if one of you archangels calls her an 'it' one more time… "

Ana let out another blood-curdling scream of agony and Lailah couldn't suppress the shudder that made its way visibly through her body.

"This is wrong, Raphael. Everything about this is wrong."

"We have our orders," he reminded her.

"I can't believe the council expects me to sit here and just do nothing while she suffers like this. The poor woman has endured enough!"

"Are you certain you can handle this, Lailah?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she shot agitatedly, deciding it was time for a change of subject. "Where's Ramiel?"

"Keeping an eye on the Count. He'll let us know if he starts heading this way."

"And the wolf?"

"He'll meet us just outside the wall as soon as you manage to get Ana out of here after the deed is done. We can't have Dracula trying to father another child like this. We'll get her and the wolf out of the city, as promised, the moment all of this is done."

Lailah let out a long sigh, raking her fingers through her golden wheat colored hair just once before folding her arms across her chest.

"Can you make sure he's ready?" she asked, continuing to watch Ana with a hint of sadness in her eyes. "It won't be much longer now." Raphael rested his hand on her shoulder and she glanced up at him. Though she bore it all rather beautifully, being a connoisseur of the many looks and moods of Lailah, he could see how much this was paining her. Lailah never could bear the suffering of women or children, having spent most of her time around them, witnessing the constant injustices that befell the innocent and fairer sex. He admired her forbearance however, and therefore respected her wishes.

"Of course," he said, gently pressing his hand against the back of her head and leaning forward to gently kiss her brow, the soft, reddish brown whiskers of his meticulously groomed beard tickling her fair skin. "It'll all be over soon," he promised her, and then he was gone.

Lailah watched Ana in silence as the vampire continued to scream, tears streaming down her face as the baby struggled to free itself of her mother, with no avail. Blood continued to pour from between Ana's thighs, the liquid darker than normal, thick and coagulated, and the stench intolerable.

Just when Lailah was certain she could endure the scene no longer, an unearthly roar shook the very walls of the palace.

The atmosphere had changed once again and Lailah noticed it immediately. Something was wrong, _horribly _so. The moment the thought crossed her mind, she was joined by another familiar face that appeared in a burst of heavenly light in the hall just outside the door, reducing the large handful of armed guards to ash before the light dissipated, revealing a tall, slender man with long dark hair and frightfully shaped facial features.

Lailah recognized him instantly as Ramiel, an archangel of lesser standing to Raphael, but a powerful being nonetheless. He entered the room with purpose, the door slamming shut behind him by the power of his will as he walked straight toward Lailah – though she remained invisible to Ana.

"We have a serious problem," he said, seemingly to the window, and Ana's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Who are you?" she called out between labored breaths, but her question fell on deaf ears.

"What is it?" Lailah asked.

"The witch – she's made another prophecy, and as you can imagine, the father of the child isn't taking the news very well." Lailah could still hear the vampire raging on the other side of the palace.

"What on earth did she say?"

"The gist of it? That child that is struggling to come into this world is destined to destroy her father."

"_What?_" Lailah's eyes went wide in disbelief.

"He's given order that the child is to be killed, should it make it out of the womb. We have maybe a few minutes before someone shows up." Ramiel was interrupted by a violent knock at the door. The two glanced over at the door and then at Ana almost simultaneously. "Okay, perhaps I was overly-optimistic."

"We don't have time for this," Lailah insisted.

"Who on earth are you talking to? Who are you? Answer me at once!" Ana shouted, her voice trailing off into another scream as yet another wave of pain made its way through her.

"There's more, Lailah," Ramiel added in softer tones so Ana wouldn't be able to hear him.

"It'll have to wait, Ramiel. If this child is the means of ending that demon's reign on earth, then I don't give a damn what the council says," and the moment she took a step forward, she became visible to Ana, who cried out, this time in surprise.

"Who are you people? How did you get in here?"

"Ramiel, I need you to keep that hallway clear. The second this baby is delivered, we're going to have to make a run for it."

"Lailah, this is a _really_ bad idea!"

"I don't care, just do it!" she shouted, her eyes glowing in her anger before they returned to their normal state as she regained her composure. She took a deep breath and looked over at her friend who stood there, watching her. "Please Ramiel… we cannot let this baby die."

The angel nodded once and turned to exit the room, unsheathing his sword.

"Michael's not going to be very happy about this."

"We'll deal with him later," and with a wave of her hand, the door shut behind Ramiel after he exited the room, the sound of carnage following in his wake.

"Who are you? What are you doing here and who was that man?" Ana's panicked questions brought Lailah back into the present and she turned, attention fully on the exhausted mother.

"My name is Lailah, Ana. I'm here to help you," the blonde woman explained, the soothing lilt of her voice compelling Ana to relax. Ana's eyes fell over the woman in bewilderment as she brushed a few of the vampire's dark brown curls from her brow. The stranger was a beautiful creature, dressed in black business attire that was sharp, yet distinctly feminine, Ana thought idly to herself. Lailah pressed the palm of her hand to the vampire's belly and closed her eyes as though she were telepathically assessing the damage.

"We're just in time," Lailah sighed in relief, removing her hand and quickly going to work.

"I don't understand. My baby – she isn't coming out. Why isn't she coming out?"

"You're a vampire, Miss Val, as is your child. Your natural instinct is to heal automatically, which means every time you try to push her out, your body stitches itself back up, making it impossible for the little one to get free, so she's started clawing at your insides. But in her panic, she has also managed to harm herself in the process. If we don't get her out now, she'll tear you and herself to pieces."

"So that's what that sharp pain is?" Ana asked weakly with a surprising amount of humor.

"She's a fighter, this one," Lailah said with the faintest of smiles.

Relieved to no longer be alone and finding it inexplicably easy to trust this stranger, Ana leaned back into the pillows as Lailah's hand rested on her belly, the woman's touch comforting the mother and soothing the child that was desperate to get out.

"I don't know if I can do this, Lailah," the vampire said suddenly, a single tear leaking from the corner of her eye as the realization of what was happening overcame her.

"Don't know if you can what?"

"I don't know if I can be a mom. If I can even be the mother she needs."

"You can and you must, Ana, because the second your little girl comes out, she's going to need someone to protect her."

"Protect her? Whatever for? Dracula is the most powerful man on earth."

"And the witch he keeps in the tower on the other side of the palace just told him that your daughter will be the means of his destruction."

A look of utter dread washed over Ana's face as she shook her head in disbelief.

"No… no it can't be!"

"I am sorry, Ana, but you and your daughter are no longer safe here. The instant this baby is delivered, I'm getting you out of here."

"We'll never get out alive," she insisted, weeping softly, a whirl of conflicting emotions.

"Yes we will."

"You don't know that. You don't know him like I do. When Dracula finds out that my baby is alive, that I've gone missing, he'll tear this city apart with his bare hands just to find us."

Lailah paused for a moment and glanced up at Ana to find more tears streaming down the woman's face. She looked exhausted and without hope and it pained Lailah to see it.

"Ana, look at me." She grabbed the vampire's hand and squeezed it affectionately. "I swear to you, I will get you and your baby out of this palace alive and _no one_, not heaven or earth or hell itself will stop me. Do you trust me?" Ana thought on it for a moment before nodding her head as another round of pain washed over her. Anything was better than being locked away in this palace with a womanizing sadist for a husband. "Good. Because David is just outside the wall waiting to take both of you home."

Ana's expression softened considerably at the sound of her lover's name, the very name of the man she hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime giving her a much needed burst of energy.

"David? He's here?"

"Yes, but before you can go see him, you need to deliver this baby."

Ana nodded and leaned her head back once more, staring up at the ceiling and doing her best to keep from crying out, while Lailah carefully rested her hand on the vampire's lower belly. Using a magic that was more miraculous than anything else, Lailah focused all of her energy on the child nestled in the lower part of her mother's womb, but then became very still, her eyes fixed on Ana's stretched skin and full of an indescribable expression. The vampire could have sworn that this strange woman could see straight into her womb, and though the wave of each contraction was excruciating, she continued to watch closely, puzzled by the look in this Lailah's eyes and the single tear that was running down her cheek.

"What is it?" Ana asked, but the blonde-haired woman never looked at her.

She was frozen in place, staring almost blankly at Ana's stomach.

She felt so far away.

Lailah felt an intense amount of darkness and sadness swiftly wash over her. It was cold and frightening. In that instant, she could feel how much was at stake. In that single moment, it was as though she could see what would happen if the child didn't last the night, and, even more importantly, what would happen if she did. If she stuck with the original plan and the child's innocent soul was taken back to heaven, Dracula's power would remain unchecked.

But if she delivered that baby now…

This was so much bigger than she had anticipated, and for the first time in a long time, Lailah was afraid.

But she never showed it.

She did what she always did. Lailah buried it deep and kept moving forward.

Briskly wiping away the single tear she had unconsciously shed, she tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear with her clean hand. She could hear Ramiel entering the room and felt his gaze on her. When he said her name she turned her head and they locked eyes. There was a silent conversation that passed between the mysterious woman and the archangel – a conversation Ana could not understand but could feel the gravity of. Ramiel looked guilty – guilty and torn and pained. He said Lailah's name once more, with so much feeling and even a hint of begging, Ana wondered what on earth could have passed between the two, but Lailah stood there, firm and resolute.

"Swear to me, Ramiel. Swear to me right now."

The archangel flinched as if struggling with something internally, but at last his shoulders relaxed and his head fell a little.

"I swear it."

"Lailah, what is it? What's going on? What's wrong?" Ana asked, bewildered and deeply concerned. Lailah spoke to Ramiel before returning her attention to the vampire.

"We'll be ready in ten minutes."

"I'll have a path ready for you," Ramiel promised, and he was out the door once more.

Ana asked Lailah what was going on once again, but the woman merely smiled a sweet, almost sad smile.

"Everything is going to be fine, Ana. Now let's deliver this baby," and Ana winced when she felt Lailah's fingers stretch her insides, forcing the birthing canal to stay expanded.

Lailah instructed Ana in every particular, and the vampire obeyed to the best of her abilities.

The agony was certainly unlike anything Ana had ever felt before. She could feel the muscles and flesh between her legs tearing as she pushed the baby down, Lailah's hands inside of her to keep her body from healing itself.

But the Count's youngest bride was brave and with the right encouragement and after several strong pushes, at long last, a tiny little body slipped out from between Ana's trembling thighs and relief washed over her as she broke out into silent sobs. Lailah, her hands covered in Ana's blood, took the child over to the nightstand beside the bed where she had prepared a small basin of warm water and she washed the child with quick efficiency, though there was a tenderness in her touch that intrigued the mother.

"Why are you helping me?" Ana asked after Lailah wrapped the newborn infant into a soft blanket before handing her to the vampire.

"I have been delivering Valerious' into this world for almost two millennia now," Lailah explained with a smile. "And besides, this is the first vampire baby to be born the 'natural' way. Did you really think I would miss out on an opportunity like this?" She sent Ana a smirk and the vampire laughed as she looked down at the little bundle in her arms.

"There is nothing natural about this baby," she said weakly, tears of relief streaming down her face. "If the Count wants her dead, she must be important."

Lailah caressed the child's soft, dark hair with the back of her finger.

"She's going to change the world," she said with notable reverence.

Ana finally pulled the blanket back a bit so she could get a better look at her newborn daughter's face when she suddenly realized that the child's wide eyes looked alarmingly like her father's – beautiful, hypnotic, and electric blue. A wave of uneasiness washed over Ana, replacing the motherly affection she had felt just moments ago with an unnerving sense of fear and apprehension. Lailah noticed this, but said nothing on the subject.

"Can you heal yourself?" the woman asked the vampire. "We need to go."

"It appears to be moving along a little slower than usual. I need blood," and she motioned to a crystal glass that was half-drunk on a small table near one of the windows. Lailah handed it to her and offered to take the baby that was starting to fuss. While Ana began to heal herself, Lailah, awash in curious fascination, began to examine the child's features – particularly her mouth. The babe had no teeth to speak of upon first glance. Just the usual pink gums hidden behind tiny little lips. Intuition told her to stick her finger in the child's mouth to study further and when she did, she discovered, quite by accident, tiny retractable fangs. They pierced the flesh of her finger, allowing the tiniest of drop of blood to disappear on the baby's palette. At first, she thought nothing of it, until Ana's eyes shot up as if surprised.

"What did you just do?" the mother demanded.

"What is it?"

"I could sense her so clearly just a moment ago, but it's like… I don't know… it's fainter for some reason. Did you give her something?" the vampire inquired thoughtfully, climbing off the bed to stand beside Lailah.

"She bit me. She may have ingested some of my blood. Nothing serious. Just a tiny drop."

Ana studied her now wide-eyed baby girl, who seemed very much enthralled with Lailah's finger now hovering over her mouth.

"I know this sounds strange, but can you do that again?"

Lailah looked hesitant, but Ana was already being so trusting of her, she couldn't help but return the favor by having faith in the vampire's instincts. So she placed her finger in the baby's mouth and barely flinched when the razor-sharp fangs broke through the skin of her finger again. Instead of removing the digit like before, she left it, watching the child with deep curiosity as it latched on to the finger and sucked. Within moments, Lailah felt something strange emanating from the baby that hadn't been there before – an unexplainable kind of connection that both confused and captivated her. The infant's eyes locked onto hers, gazing up at the woman as though she knew her.

"I can't sense her anymore," Ana said after several moments, caressing the soft, dark brown hair on her daughter's head. Her words weren't full of the panic that Lailah had anticipated. If anything, they were filled with a strange kind of relief. It took her a moment to figure out why, but when she did, the oddness of the situation quickly disappeared.

If the mother couldn't sense the presence of her own child – neither could the father.

Perhaps they could make it out of here undetected after all.

"What are you?" Ana asked with wonder, but Lailah never had a moment to reply.

"If we're going to get out of here unnoticed, now would be the time to do it," Ramiel interrupted, appearing in the doorway. Lailah removed her finger from the child's mouth, the baby whining in protest as she was handed back to Ana. When the infant was secure in her mother's arms, Lailah turned to the archangel and nodded.

"Let's go."

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><p>Thick hessian boots stormed at a brisk pace through a stone corridor, each step more violent than the last. A dark rage emanated from him like a pulsating aura as he turned one corner and then another, quickly picking up on the stench of blood and ash coming from the direction of Ana's bedchambers.<p>

He was an array of intense emotions, ranging from unquenchable wrath to a bitter discontent that seemed to both crush his lungs and poison his veins. Though internally beside himself, he channeled it all into rage. Yes – anger was the easiest emotion to feel, so much less painful than the sense of loss and disappointment that currently plagued him.

After all he had done, after everything he had sacrificed, after countless centuries of fighting and building and rebuilding and conquering – just when the world and everything it had to offer was his, Dracula was once again denied the single thing he wanted more than anything, the one thing he had lost so many years ago and had been fighting to reclaim – a family.

So many had told him through the years to just be satisfied with what he had, but it wasn't in the nature of Count Vladislaus Dracula to settle.

He wanted it all, and "almost everything" had never been an option.

The witch's prophecy was pounding in his head like a war drum. Why did it have to be this way? Where had he gone wrong? The Count had done everything the first prophecy had asked of him. He hunted down the last Valerious, he wooed her, showered her with everything she desired, made certain that their coupling was of her own will; he protected her when his other lovers became jealous, shielded her from any form of harm – but it was all for naught and he cursed the universe for thwarting him once again, for taking from him what was most precious.

The stench of death was stronger now and he immediately recognized the scent of Ana's blood, part of him groaning inwardly. He didn't want to see the inevitable disappointment in the eyes of his young bride, nor did he wish to see the corpse of their child, but he had to be certain for himself that the deed was done. But when he turned the final corner toward the hall that led to Ana's bedchambers, he stopped mid step when his eyes fell upon the carnage outside her open door.

There was blood and the ash-ridden skeletal remains of his guards everywhere, smeared on the floor and burned to a crisp on the walls, as if they had been torched by a massive ball of fire. He entered Ana's room to find it empty. Her blood, which he had smelled, soaked the center of the bed and there was no sign of her or the corpse of the baby anywhere.

The cool night air blew into the room through an open window, the freshly falling snow starting to pile-up on the sill. It helped to cool his anger so he could focus and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out nice and slow, his mind reaching out for his missing bride.

Dracula could sense her, though just barely. She was still in the palace, yet her exact location was being hidden from him somehow with a magic he was unfamiliar with. He reached out even farther to see if he could find some signs of his child, but he could sense no such thing.

He could feel the heart he had so many times denied having breaking in his chest.

His child – the daughter he never got the chance to see – was already gone. But Ana was still alive, and it gave him a strange kind of hope. If he could just find her, they could start again, perhaps conceive another. Refocusing his energies on Ana, he managed to determine the general vicinity of where she was, soon able to deduce where she was headed.

With a sharp turn of his heel he exited the room, his body disappearing into a black mist that floated rapidly down the hall, leaving the slightest stench of sulfur in its wake.

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><p>They had finally reached the courtyard after what felt like an age of winding staircases and narrow, disused passageways, having only been spotted once. Ramiel's silencing methods had always been most efficient, and this time had been no exception. But if there was one thing Lailah trusted most in this world, it was her instincts, and they were screaming at her to move faster before their good fortune ran out.<p>

A figure emerged from the shadows upon their entry into the moonlit courtyard and Lailah felt a wave of relief wash over her when she recognized Raphael in the distance, who was shortly joined by another individual. The small gasp of recognition that caught in Ana's throat not a moment later confirmed what Lailah had already anticipated, but it was the reverent utterance of Ana's name from the man standing beside Raphael that confirmed – it was David.

The two lovers closed in on the distance that existed between them, neither saying a word, as if there was an unspoken moment of hesitance. Ana's richly colored eyes fell on her old lover with sudden remembrance, taking in the welcome sight of his tousled light brown hair, the familiarity of his unshaven face, and the gorgeous teal eyes with the gold rings around his pupils – the sign of the werewolf. That moment of timidity was gone as quickly as it came and the two embraced fervently, as if the world around them and the urgency of the situation had vanished.

"I thought I'd never see you again," David exclaimed, holding her close, breathing her in deep and relishing in her familiar scent.

"I can't believe it's been a year. How your eyes have aged," Ana said, tenderly touching his face. David did his best to hold back the emotions that were now getting caught in his throat, but the scent of something that was not Ana stole his attention and the company noticed his look of confusion.

As if to answer his unasked query, Ana revealed a small bundle clutched to her person. She pulled back the soft blanket to reveal the baby that had been born just over a half-hour ago. The infant's gaze pierced right through David and an involuntary chill ran down his spine. He immediately looked to Raphael who was staring incredulously at Lailah.

"What have you done?" Raphael demanded quietly, the shock in his voice evident.

"The situation has changed," Lailah began, but Raphael interrupted her.

"Do you have any idea what Michael is going to do when he finds out that this baby is still alive?"

"We don't have time for this Raphael."

"What were you thinking, Lailah?"

"The witch prophesied that the child would usher in Dracula's destruction," Ramiel chimed in before Raphael could get too upset. The news was surprising to the otherwise ignorant parties and all eyes turned to the archangel. "She could be our only hope of ridding the world of the vampire once and for all."

"Is this true?" Raphael asked, turning to Lailah once again. The woman looked over at the slumbering child in Ana's arms, recalling the things she had seen and the visions she had had just before the child's birth. She nodded.

"Yes, it is true. I have seen it."

"Is that all the prophecy mentioned?" Raphael inquired, looking back over at Ramiel who in turn glanced over at Lailah. The dark-haired angel nodded, albeit a tad hesitantly, before looking back at his superior.

"The prophecy mentioned nothing else," Ramiel lied and Lailah thanked him with her eyes when Raphael wasn't looking. The archangel looked down at the infant with an unsure expression, but after a moment's thought, he seemed to make up his mind of something and he looked to Lailah.

"Does the Count know that his child still lives?"

"For now, no. But when he realizes Ana's missing and there's no body to confirm anything, he'll be suspicious. We need to leave now."

"Agreed."

David grabbed Ana's hand and prepared to lead the company over the wall when he and his vampire lover noticed the other three exchanging very ominous looks, as though they could sense something that they could not.

"What is it?" David asked, wary of what answer they would give.

"You don't feel that?" Ramiel asked in surprise.

David and Ana both shook their heads, but it was Lailah turning slowly to look into the shadows of the great palace behind them that made them uneasy.

"He's coming," Lailah whispered, the words drenched in an irrefutable sense of foreboding.

After a few moments of allowing her gaze to linger in the shadows, she suddenly moved out of the way as if to dodge something and a long object whizzed past her head at great velocity, heading in the direction of David's chest. With her free hand, Ana caught the object just before it could find a home in his flesh, revealing a steel arrow with a deadly silver tip.

"More like, he's here," Raphael corrected, unsheathing a gorgeous blade, ready to fight. Ramiel followed suit, but Lailah quickly turned to the two angels, motioning with her hand for them to put away their weapons.

"There's no time for that," she insisted. "You have to run. Make sure they get to the rendezvous point and I'll be with you shortly. I'll hold them off."

"Lailah, don't be ridiculous!" Raphael exclaimed. "You can't _hold off_ Count Dracula."

"With all due respect, I just delivered the daughter of that demon and he had the gall to send a small group of soldiers to _murder_ a defenseless child. I have a great deal of frustration I need to let out on _something_, Raphael, and unless you want me taking it out on you, I highly suggest we end this silly disagreement, and you get them out of here _now_. I can handle myself."

The way she spoke was steady and controlled, but Raphael could tell she was on edge – though part of him doubted it was all owed to Dracula wanting to kill his own child. He clearly didn't approve of her staying behind. The look he gave her spoke volumes on that front. However, as much as he hated it, she was right. Now was not the time to argue, and if anyone had earned the right to use Dracula as an _undead_ punching-bag, it was Lailah. Being a person of action, it had always been difficult for Lailah to follow orders she didn't agree with and the council had crossed a line, ordering her to not only make sure Ana hadn't delivered the child, but to _watch_.

And after everything she had gone through to make sure the Valerious bloodline survived Dracula's personal vendetta.

Against his better judgment, Raphael ceded, ordering Ramiel to take the front as they moved out. But before leaving to follow after them, he looked directly into Lailah's eyes. A look of understanding passed between the two of them, and she nodded to him in silent gratitude.

"Don't get carried away," he urged her, and in a flash of light he was gone, leaving her alone in the courtyard.

"I'm not making any promises I can't keep."

The moment she saw them scale over the massive wall and out of immediate danger, she turned to face the enormous staircase that led to the main entry of the palace. Lailah noticed three hybrid centurion guards – members of Dracula's elite army – descending down the staircase towards her. She soon recognized Zane leading the other two guards and her eyes narrowed in on him as he continued to make his way down. He was a giant of a man – tall, strongly built, with beautiful dark skin that stretched over meticulously-sculpted muscles, his eyes appearing to be jet black.

"Come gentlemen," Lailah taunted, removing the coat she had been wearing and shrugging it off her shoulders. She extended her arms in dramatic welcome. "Your angel of death awaits."

The two hybrids on either side of Zane lunged forward to attack, flying down the remaining steps with inhuman speed.

With movements that were like lightning to the naked eye, Lailah unsheathed a small blade that had been hidden on her person and with two clean flicks of her wrist, the battle-cries of the hybrids fell immediately silent.

Zane watched as the heads of his two centurions slid cleanly off their shoulders, hitting the ground in unison. His eyes found Lailah's dark gaze and she noted the faintest hint of fear in his expression.

"Who are you?" he asked after carefully unsheathing his sword.

The mysterious blade she held in her hand began to glow, that light imbedding itself beneath her skin and spreading through her veins like a white-hot fire until her entire person was radiating with heavenly light.

"Come and find out, soldier," she replied, her eyes provoking him.

He materialized in front of her, the blade of his sword falling down on her with brute force. She blocked his attack with her arm and pushed it away. The sharp steel never managed to pierce her skin, but when it came in contact with her arm, the captain had noticed the appearance a strange gold pattern, rippling through her flesh and then vanishing, as if her skin was protected by some kind of magic.

He raised his blade to hit her again, but she vanished before his eyes. She reappeared behind him with her blade, and he swiftly blocked her oncoming attack. Their fight went on for several moments, their movements prompt and calculated. Just before Lailah could finish him with a blow to the chest, a voice called out, interrupting their duel.

"Enough!"

The fighting came to a grinding halt as Lailah held the tip of her sword over the captain's heart, appearing to stare into his eyes, though in truth, she was looking right past him, as if trying to decide whether to just kill him or not. She never really had the chance to decide, because with a wave of the newcomer's hand, Zane disappeared beneath her. Lailah closed her eyes, clenching the hilt of her blade as she did her best to calm the storm raging inside of her before opening her eyes again and standing slowly.

Twirling the weapon once in her hand, it vanished into thin air and she raised her head to meet the glacial gaze of Count Dracula who was staring down at her.

"I recognize your presence, angel, but not your face," he said, his eyes filled with curiosity. "Who are you?"

"I do not have to give you my name, _Dracul_," she answered with a great deal of steadiness, control, and just a hint of self-righteous indignation.

His charming smile was unnerving.

"But that puts you at a clear advantage over me, my dear, and though I'll be the first to admit my weakness for strong and beautiful women, it's been one hell of an evening and my patience has worn dangerously thin," he explained as he finished his descent, his words laced with an iciness that was hard to miss.

"I'd offer my condolences, but I am a firm believer in the phrase 'you reap what you sow.'" The smug grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth irritated him. "Kind of ironic really," she continued. "The father of an entire species, playing the role of reaper to a child born of his own seed. Though I suppose not wholly unexpected, as your own sense of self-preservation has always out-weighed the well-being of your own flesh and blood."

Her insult infuriated him and he appeared suddenly in front of her, the action meant to frighten or at least startle her, but she wasn't the least bit intimidated. This perturbed him, but he hid it well.

"Where are the remains of my child?" he demanded. "And what have you done with my wife?"

"Ana is not your wife, Dracula, nor will she remain your prisoner any longer. As for your daughter, the child is in God's hands."

Her response did not have their intended effect. Instead of becoming more angered, he started to laugh. Yet, centuries of study allowed her to see the faintest hint of pain in his eyes, though it was well concealed behind the maniacal laughter.

"Then I suppose you haven't heard, have you?" he replied, his bearing taking on that of a predator that had the upper-hand. Circling her slowly, he continued. "That child was to be my undoing. I thought God and His angels would have welcomed such a savior?"

"Your undoing?" she repeated, careful to do so with surprise, though the generality of this news was old to her. He appeared pleased by her apparent lack of knowledge and continued.

"_An infant of the blood, conceived at a terrible price. Child of the darkness, born 'midst fire and ice_."

"Your witch prophesies in verse? How innovative of her."

"Before the blood moon rose, it was snowing outside," he explained while motioning to the sky, ignoring her snide comment. "And from the looks of the hallway outside Ana's bedchambers, you and your accomplices set fire to my men."

"A most astute deduction, your grace," and she exhaled with an overtly dramatized bow of her head. "But I assume that isn't all?"

"_Subject to a father's curse, and the calling of the mother…_"

"She's your daughter, so that would have made her a vampire… and the calling of the mother?"

"The Valerious line is my sworn enemy. They are destined to destroy me."

"Makes sense. Is that all?"

"No, there's more – _Destined to wear a blood-soaked crown, the only heir of the father._"

"So she was destined to take your place after all? How intriguing."

"Not nearly as intriguing as the last bit," he assured her, reciting the final part of the prophecy. "_So return to love once lost, and dim her heavenly light – for the daughter's power can only be realized, when comes the angel of the night_. I can't help but wonder what that last bit means. Makes no sense to me, for I cannot love – though I guess it doesn't matter since the child is dead. I should thank you for doing my dirty work for me. I wasn't exactly looking forward to murdering my own offspring, but then again…" He paused mid-sentence when he noticed the expression Lailah's face.

When he had completed reciting the prophecy, a horrible chill had run down her spine as her eyes widened in a shock she could not mask. The vision she had had just before delivering Ana's baby into the world – a vision that had been like a puzzle in disarray with pieces missing – was starting to make more and more sense. It wasn't just some prophecy, she realized, but a riddle as well. Ramiel – he had tried to tell her that _she_, Lailah, had been mentioned in the prophecy, though merely in title only. The warning in the last few stanzas made her uneasy, but with that warning also came hope, and the faintest of smiles started to creep onto her face as she realized she had made the right choice is saving Ana's baby.

If they could just get Ana and her infant daughter out of the city, they could prepare the child for that destined confrontation with the Count, ending his reign of horror and darkness once and for all.

Unfortunately, her moment of distraction had allowed the Count to note the victorious and relieved smile that suddenly curled her lips.

"My daughter isn't dead, is she?" he asked, bringing her back into the present.

Lailah couldn't help herself.

At last, she had him in her grasp! She finally had the upper hand that no one had managed to obtain in over a thousand years.

She couldn't help herself.

She grinned wildly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she taunted.

"Where is she? Where is my daughter?!" he demanded, possessed with a violent anger and he towered over her like an ominous shadow, but she boldly laughed in his face.

"Far beyond your reach," she replied – which was technically a lie, as they were still in the city, but they wouldn't be for long. With an arrogance that he found strangely suited her, she stepped forward so she was standing beside him and she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

The game was hers; she could feel it.

"Check."

Her moment of triumph was short-lived, however, as a disembodied voice shouted "liar", the word hanging in the air like a final judgment. "The angel lies, my master," the female voice continued as Lailah's eyes shot about briefly, trying to locate the origin of the voice. "The child lives and is still within the walls of the city."

Dracula looked up at the tallest tower of the palace where the windows were glowing with a menacing red light and he bowed slightly to it.

"Thank you, my dear," he crooned as if the woman were standing before him. "Where is she located?"

"I cannot make out her location, master. I can barely sense her – she is being guarded from my sight with magic I do not yet understand. But she is there. I can hear your blood in her veins."

"Even if that were true," Lailah countered, "you'd never find her!"

The red light from the tower intensified as a beam of it shot down into the courtyard, erupting in flames as the figure of a slender woman emerged.

It was the witch.

She was about Lailah's height, with dark brown hair and even darker eyes.

"You are no match for me, _Lailah_!" the witch spat venomously.

The fact that the witch had identified her – or at least knew her name – unnerved the angel and she did her best to hold her ground, though the dark power that was emanating off the witch was terrifying to behold. It had been an age since the angel had beheld such awful power – no creature should have been able to possess it, yet there the witch stood, her feet consumed in hellfire, yet unfazed by the unforgiving burn.

"I think you have me confused with someone else," Lailah insisted.

"Where is the child?" the witch demanded, having none of this nonsense.

Lailah rolled her eyes.

"Like I'd tell you."

The witch let out a hellish scream that resembled that of a host of demons and it sent a violent shiver through Lailah, but she remained stoic and silent. Seeing that her heavenly counterpart would not budge on the matter, the witch relented.

"Fine. But I promise you this – I will find her, angel. The question now is how long can you last out of heaven's reach?"

She started a low chant in a language that Lailah recognized as Enochian – a language reserved for those of heaven and a select few in hell.

The witch's chanting continued, though her voice was no longer her own – the words that poured out of her mouth were spoken by not one creature, but hundreds, maybe even thousands, and soon the veins beneath her skin were visible to the naked eye. Lailah watched in both dread and a morbid kind of fascination as the witch's body was suddenly engulfed in flames as a blinding red light radiated off her before shooting up into the air.

The witch was cursing the city so that nothing – living or otherwise – could get out. And to make matters even more complicated, the spell would also bind heaven's lesser angels – angels like Lailah – to the earth, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"If you were planning on getting Ana and the baby out of the city, you might want to do that now," Dracula taunted, a malevolent grin spreading wide across his features. "In a few minutes, no one will be leaving this city until I find that child – not even _you_, angel."

"You underestimate me."

"I'm just following your bad example," he mused as a red force-field began to appear high up in the sky, slowly descending on the city like a wave of dark, crimson blood. "You better run, my dear. Look, I'll even give you a head start," and he stepped out of her way, motioning with his hand towards the exit as he bowed, mocking her.

Caught between infuriation and panic, Lailah made a movement to depart when he caught her arm in his hand, stopping her.

"She said your name was Lailah, right? Why does that sounds so familiar?"

Lailah shrugged her arm roughly out of his hold without saying a word and vanished into thin air, taking off into the city as the red curse continued its descent.

"Oh, and one more thing!" he shouted triumphantly at the wall. "Checkmate!"

After savoring his moment of triumph, Dracula shouted Zane's name and the captain appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Your grace?"

"We can't follow the angel on foot, but we can weed her out as soon as my queen has completed her curse."

"Your queen, sir?" the man replied, obviously confused.

"It's a chess reference, Zane. Do try to keep up," Dracula replied with a degree of agitation. "Prepare the brutes. I want every square inch of the city searched. I want that child and its mother within the walls of this palace before sundown tomorrow, understood?"

"Yes, master."

"And Zane? After you have given the order, tell Verena that I wish to see her. I need to pick her brain on this _Lailah_."

"If it pleases you, master."

Zane excused himself, leaving the Count standing alone at the foot of the stairs, staring up into the sky as his witch's spell gradually fell upon the city. He could hear the panic rise beyond the wall that surrounded the palace as the sirens shattered what had been an evening of relative peace, warning of the oncoming troops that soon after descended upon the metropolis in a swarm, the armor clad men and women of Dracula's private army pouring into the streets.

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><p><strong>Thank you for stopping by, and as always – reviews are <strong>**most**** welcome and **_**always**_** appreciated. Whether it be feedback, reactions, demands, suggestions, questions (though at this point, you should have lots of those), scathing critiques that you just can't hold inside – send them my way. **

**The muse feeds off of them, and quite frankly, his nibs is starving. The poor dear.**

**Happy All Hallows Eve! **


	2. Chapter 2

_**Forgive any errors I may have missed and enjoy the fan fiction. It's meant to amuse.**_

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><p><em><strong>II<strong>_

Freya de Winter was convinced that she would never amount to anything special. She may have been born of one of the most prestigious bloodlines in all of witch-history, but that didn't change the fact that she was still seen, and in her mind would forever be seen, as the younger, emotionally unbalanced, undisciplined, and unmotivated sister of the dearly departed Myra de Winter – the most promising witch her kind had ever seen, taken too soon. It had been three years since Myra had gone missing, having since then been pronounced dead by the ever-dwindling witch community, namely the pretentious coven known only as the Daughters of the Moon.

This wasn't exactly how Freya had wanted to spend her birthday, hidden in the shadows of an alley with a bottle of liquor in her hand and silent tears streaming down her face, yet here she was. In her other hand, she held a sterling silver-set pendulum necklace – a family heirloom – her thumb gently caressing the long emerald gemstone as she listened to the faint blare of sirens off in the distance, the haunting sound drowning out the panicked chaos towards the center of the city.

The outskirts were always quieter this time of night, and she was grateful for that.

Wiping away the tears from her cheeks as she tucked her hair behind her ear, her moment of solitary mourning was disrupted by a loud crash, several yards off towards the other end of the alley. She stood with some difficulty, the alcohol causing her sense of self-preservation to be a bit more lax.

"Who's there?" she demanded, doing her best to make sure her words were as unslurred and authoritative as possible. If you act like you're in charge, most often people will believe it, her sister had always told her. The query, however, was met with another loud crash and from the sound of it, something big was having some trouble getting through the narrow passage between the overcrowded buildings.

Taking a cautious step forward, Freya called out again, a little bit hesitantly this time, and the movement appeared to be much closer than she had originally anticipated. With the sirens and the sounds of screams serving as background, Freya couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that was creeping through her veins.

But it was the chill that ran down her spine, spreading goose bumps over her skin that turned the uncertainty into dread. Instinct told her to look up, and when she did she stared in horror and disbelief at the red wave making its way slowly across what had been a gorgeous night sky. She recognized the wave as a magical curse, with its violent cracks of thunder and blinding flashes of lightning. The sound of another bang tore her eyes away from the scene above her head and she looked out into the darkness ahead to see the shadow of a large wolf – easily the size of a horse – not ten feet from where she now stood.

Freya watched as a dark-haired wolf moved into the clearing of the ally and a cloaked figure dismounted from its back.

"What is that in the sky?" the rider asked, her voice faintly familiar to Freya as she, remaining utterly motionless, continued to observe the interlude, her presence unknown to the woman and the wolf. The wolf transformed into the figure of a man with very rugged hair.

"It can't be anything good," the man replied, pulling on the pair of pants the cloaked woman offered him, Freya immediately recognizing the voice of one David Blackwood – a man she hadn't seen in nearly six months. The small cry of an infant could barely be heard coming from the arms of the mysterious woman and the two looked down at the little bundle she was holding.

"Hush now, child," the woman implored as sweetly as she could, though Freya could detect the panic in her voice.

They were shortly thereafter joined by two tall men, both dressed in dark business attire – an odd thing to be wearing in this part of the city. But the aura that radiated off of them was bright and warm – almost heavenly, and though Freya had always been taught to be wary of darkly dressed strangers, these two made her feel oddly at ease.

"Were we followed?" David asked the two men. The tallest one with the auburn hair shook his head.

"No. Lailah managed to get us a clean get away."

"Thank God," the woman exhaled in relief. "Where is she?"

"She should be here any moment. How are you holding up?"

"I haven't had the chance to heal completely, but I'll manage," the woman replied, the familiarity of her voice driving Freya mad as she struggled to place where she had heard it.

"We should keep moving," the other stranger with the longer brown hair said, motioning to the curse that was rapidly taking over every inch of the sky. "Whatever it is, I have a feeling that if it manages to pass us up, there's no getting out of here."

"Ramiel is right," David agreed. "I know you want to wait for Lailah, but we don't have time. We need to keep moving."

"But what if Dracula has done something to her?" the woman countered nervously.

"If anyone can handle Dracula, Lailah can," the auburn one insisted.

"You don't understand! None of you do!" the woman exclaimed, her outburst taking the three men by surprise and causing the infant in her arms to cry out even more. "Dracula is more powerful than any of you could imagine! He will stop at nothing! He will hunt us until the ends of the earth and no matter where we hide, he will always keep looking for me… he knows. He always knows," and the woman began to weep softly.

The infant's cries grew louder, and Freya could feel the tension growing between the four of them.

"Sweetheart, please. We need to go," David implored as calmly as he could, gently offering the woman his hand, but she backed away as if afraid.

"You don't know what he's like," she insisted. "He'll kill us. He'll kill us all…"

"Ana, please!"

Suddenly realizing who the woman was, Freya's grip on the bottle she had been holding slackened and it fell to the ground with a deafening smash as the glass shattered into a hundred pieces. All eyes quickly took notice of her, but she hardly cared. Ana turned around and found Freya's gaze and the fear melted away as her features softened in recognition.

"My God, it can't be," Freya whispered in disbelief. "Ana?"

"Freya?"

The witch's eyes burned with tears – a sensation she had become so accustomed to these last few years. But for what felt like the first time in her life, the tears that tumbled down her cheeks were happy ones and she quickly closed the distance between them, wrapping both arms around the vampire, relieved that she was indeed real and not a cruel trick of her mind.

"I can't believe you're alright!" Freya exclaimed after sheepishly apologizing for squishing the still fussing baby in Ana's arms. The two strange men she did not recognize made a movement to create some distance between Ana and Freya, but David intervened.

"Easy now! She's a friend. We can trust her."

"Where did you happen upon these two?"

"Freya, this is Raphael and Ramiel. They…" Ana began, but was interrupted.

"We can have this conversation later. We need to get out of the city _now_," Raphael insisted, trying to usher Ana down the alley by putting his hand on her back.

"Why? What's going on?"

"It's a long story," Ana answered sheepishly. "But we need to get out of the city, Freya. Can you help us?"

"Help you get out of the city? If I was a miracle worker, sure. But I know powerful magic when I see it and that…" and she pointed up at the blood-red sky. "Well, let's just say no one is getting out with that looming over our heads."

"It hasn't completely encased the city yet. We may still have a chance," Ramiel encouraged, but Freya shook her head.

"Very little. If you're trying to escape Dracula, your best bet is to find a good place to hide and pray he doesn't find you. That magic is beyond anything I've felt in a long time."

"What is it, exactly?" David inquired, craning his head back to get a better look at the sky.

"It's an incarceration curse. It works like a magical cage – nothing gets in, nothing gets out, unless the caster wills it."

"No mortal's magic has ever bound a creature of heaven, witch. If we move now, we just might be able to get David, Ana, and the child out before the curse sets completely," Ramiel asserted.

"I'm telling you, this isn't an ordinary spell! Dracula's power is anchored in sacrificial magic. Whatever witch he has casting that spell has access to that same power. You're not getting out of here unless you're God or something. If you want to leave now and save your angelic hide, then do it. But there's no way you're going to be able to get Ana and that baby out in time. The edge of the city is heavily guarded and I hate to be the bearer of even worse news, but from the sounds of it, he's sending his entire army after you. You haven't got a chance."

"The witch is right," Lailah confirmed, appearing out of the shadows. "Our opportunity of getting them out of here on our own is gone. We need to get underground _now_."

"What happened?" Raphael asked, but she never answered. Lailah's attention was instead on Freya.

"Can you get us out of here, witch?" she asked.

Though Freya wasn't particularly fond of the way this newcomer had just addressed her, the look in her eyes made her silent on the matter and she nodded her head in acquiescence.

"I know a place. But we need to hurry."

"Then lead the way."

Freya turned about once in order to get her bearings before taking off in a run, the small company following after her as she wove through the labyrinth of abandoned streets and back-alleys, leading them deeper into the more abandoned part of the city, putting a safe amount of distance between themselves and the army that was combing through the entire town one building at a time. Freya led them to a run-down and long-since abandoned hotel that looked anything but safe.

The small structure adjoining it was a dive-bar that on the outside, appeared to have been closed for the better part of a decade, but upon entering through the back door of another alley they were surprised to find that inside looked as though someone had been living within. After everyone had entered, Freya secured the door behind them before leaning up against it with a smile.

"Welcome to my humble abode!"

"You've been living in an abandoned dive bar in the devil's district?" Ana asked incredulously.

"Well, I'm not living in the hotel next door, if that's what you were thinking," Freya replied, a bit deflated by the lack of approval.

"I hate to be the realist here," David chimed in, giving the place a look over, "but this won't do. There's nowhere to even hide!" He opened a door at the end of a short hallway across from the kitchen and made an over-dramatic noise of revulsion. "Freya, if you tell me that you've been using the toilet water to bathe, I will personally judge you for the rest of my life."

The angels had remained silent during this exchange, Raphael guarding the front door while Ramiel took the back, both men watching as Lailah's eyes glanced about the room, almost thoughtfully, as if she sensed something. Raphael examined her with particular interest, his eyes twinkling with a pleased kind of amusement as Lailah hovered her hand over an empty wall in the far corner of the bar.

With a gentle flick of her wrist, her hand swayed forward and then snapped back into an upright position, the power emanating from her palm taking on a blue hue as the enchantment surrounding the wall fell, revealing a hidden door. As Freya, Ana, and David looked on, surprised by the revelation, Lailah glanced back at Raphael and was pleased to find him smiling in approval, though she could tell he remained a bit uneasy by their present situation.

"Where do these stairs go?" she asked Freya, motioning to the steps that disappeared into a darkened tunnel.

"Underground. The hotel was built on top of an old mansion that was buried, almost whole, during one of the major earthquakes almost two centuries ago. Beneath that is an old library that appears to have once been connected to the house. Some of the shelves look like they were built into the actual walls of the cave."

"How did you find this place?" Lailah then asked, shutting the door and watching as it vanished from her sight once again as the enchantment took over.

"By accident. I was looking for a place to hide out after…" the witch looked over at David and Ana, and the two of them seemed to understand where her train of thought was headed. They nodded solemnly. "I've been living here for almost a year now. Have never been bothered by anyone, not once."

"Does anyone inhabit the corresponding buildings?"

"I didn't sense anyone on our way over," David replied.

That seemed to be enough for Lailah and Raphael picked up on that. But before he could voice his concern for the brewing plan in her head, the back door that Ramiel had been standing beside flew open with a blinding amount of light.

It dissipated after they heard the door slam shut and when everyone opened their eyes, they found they had gained an addition to their party. He was a tall man, intimidatingly so, with frightfully piercing eyes and thick blonde brows that seemed to be forever stuck in a mildly disapproving position.

His gaze swept over the room as if searching for something in particular, scanning over the child in Ana's arms with thinly veiled displeasure before his look found Lailah, the fury in his expression dissipating as his look became purposefully detached, cold even. The room was still with a tense kind of silence that left the company utterly motionless as the lesser angel boldly returned the stare of the newcomer. At long last, he took a single step toward her.

"Explain."

The single-word demand had been spoken with a firmness that those unaccustomed to Michael's brusqueness when under pressure didn't particularly care for. Lailah, however, was well acquainted with the head archangel's temperament, so she took a careful breath in an attempt to school herself, glancing over at Raphael for support.

The action was noticed immediately.

"Don't look at him," Michael commanded evenly, bringing Lailah's diverted eyes back to him. "I want _you_ to tell me why that child is still alive."

"Dracula's witch prophesied about the infant at the last possible moment, a prophecy which was confirmed to me through a vision during the her birth. She is destined to be the means of putting an end to Dracula's reign. I took the initiative."

"You took the initiative?" Michael repeated a little disbelievingly. "I seem to recall you receiving explicit instructions _not_ to deliver that child into this world. In fact, I believe the exact instructions were that the child wasn't supposed to survive the night. And yet, there it is!"

"Are you deaf, or did you happen to miss the part where I said she's destined to put an end to Dracula?" Lailah shot. Michael's cool began to slip at her insolence and he took a dangerous step towards the woman, towering over her, and though his disapproval radiated off of him, she remained motionless, refusing to be bullied into submission.

"Now is not the time to be belligerent, Lailah."

"I did what I believed to be right, Michael. I will not apologize for that."

"Will you ever learn to take into consideration the implications of your actions?" he snapped. "I have told you this a hundred times before – angels are not meant to directly interfere with the lives of mortals unless otherwise directed – and that _includes _the lives of vampires, werewolves, and witches," he added pointedly with a motion towards the trio standing in the corner of the room. "These rules are not made lightly, Lailah. They are there for good reason. You of all people should know that. When the council says the child's soul is to be immediately delivered back to heaven where it came from, it is said with good reason."

"But the prophecy…"

"Prophecies are rarely set in stone!" he insisted, sending a critical glance towards Freya who was cringing in intimidation. "They never tell the full story, they can be misleading, and they don't always come to pass."

"But this one was clear, Michael. The child is destined to…"

"I don't care what she's destined to do!" he exclaimed, the sudden influx in his volume causing most in the room to jump in surprise from the outburst. Michael quickly collected himself, lowering his voice to a more suitable level, though the growing frustration in his tone was still evident to the astute listener. "The original prophecy said that if influenced by her father, she would become one the greatest weapons hell has ever had in the battle against heaven. _That_ was why the order was given. _That_ is why I made certain to impress upon you the gravity of the situation should you fail. If Dracula gets his hands on that girl, if he has the chance to raise her or influence her in _any _way, we are finished, Lailah. _Finished_. And with the curse now looming over our heads, there are no guarantees that she will be kept out of his reach."

Michael motioned toward the slumbering infant in Ana's arms, all the while looking directly into Lailah's eyes as he continued.

"That child is the product of one of the greatest evils to ever walk the face of the earth."

"She is also of the Valerious bloodline – a bloodline I have dedicated centuries to preserving, a bloodline blessed by heaven itself for the soul purpose of destroying that great evil – or have you forgotten?"

"Lailah – " Raphael interjected with a warning tone, but she ignored him and took a step towards Michael so her face was right in his.

"If you're so worried about losing that child to darkness, why don't you stop wallowing in your self-righteous indignation and pessimism and get the child out of here?" Lailah challenged, her voice low and severe. "The curse only binds lesser angels – not the lot of you. You could get the child out of the city tonight and we could hide her where Dracula could never follow."

She could see she had struck a nerve in the archangel as she continued to stare him down defiantly.

"You know I can't just do that, Lailah," Michael explained, his voice growing quieter. "Situations possessing this level of gravitas requires a vote from the council. There is an order to these things."

"Oh, hang the bureaucracy!" Lailah hissed. "You're an archangel of the first order – the _head _of the council. I sincerely doubt it's going to cause much uproar if you decide to take the initiative. At worst you'll get a slap on the wrist."

"And what kind of example would such flippancy for the rules set?" Michael countered impatiently. "Rules and laws are made with good reason and the first law of heaven is obedience! I will not break that law."

The tension between the two of them lasted for what felt like an age until they all realized how close Dracula's army was to their location.

"I have a couple of our brothers getting the rest of our kind out of the city before the witch's curse sets. If I take the child with me now, I can get her out in time," Michael exhaled in defeat, finally looking away from Lailah and over to Raphael.

"What about Ana?" Lailah asked.

"Dracula's bride will stay here where she belongs."

"Michael!" Raphael and Lailah exclaimed simultaneously.

"I won't let you take my child!" Ana shouted, clutching the babe to her breast, the outburst waking the infant from her light slumber and she began to cry.

"If you can take the child, you're taking her mother with you," Lailah insisted.

"I suppose you'll tell me to hang the law next and just save the lot of them?" Michael shot. "We are not supposed to interfere, Lailah. We're not meant to save _everyone_ – that is not our purpose."

"Michael, we don't have time for this. If we can't take the mother with the child, then we'll have to find another way," Raphael answered calmly.

"We don't have time for another way!" Michael explained.

"But if we leave the child here, we run the risk of Dracula finding and corrupting her."

"Then I'll stay behind!" Lailah interrupted, the proclamation taking everyone in attendance by surprise. "I will stay and protect the child," she repeated, though calmer this time. "I was the one who disobeyed orders, I will be the one to bear the brunt the consequence."

"Lailah, don't…" Ramiel pleaded, speaking up for the first time since Michael had arrived.

"But the curse! If you stay behind instead of leaving with us now, you will not be able to return to heaven. And has a nephilim, your powers will weaken over time. It is too risky," Raphael insisted.

"Then Freya and I will just have to find a way to break the curse in the meantime," she insisted, glancing over at the witch who was secretly astonished that that angel even knew her name in the first place.

"But what about Dracula?" Ramiel asked, his question having so much more depth to it than the others realized – but Lailah understood the implications of his query. Though in that moment she couldn't fully fathom what staying behind meant, she could at least imagine and it was a greater sacrifice than anyone understood.

"He is just a man, Ramiel. I can handle him," she said. "Besides, if I can keep Ana and the child away from the Count, with their help," and she motioned to Ana, David, and Freya, "we can raise the child right, we can influence her, help her realize her potential for good. Understand Michael, in the end, it will be her decision, but I am fully prepared to dedicate my time down here to make certain she makes the right choice."

The head archangel watched Lailah most attentively as she spoke. It was evident that he did not particularly care for this plan – leaving one of his own down here without sufficient back-up or protection. It was a kind of martyrdom that Michael hadn't seen in Lailah for some time and it made him uneasy. But, as there always is, there was so much more at stake, beyond Count Dracula and his newborn daughter.

"Michael, you can't be considering…" Raphael began, but Michael hushed him with a single movement of his hand.

"The punishment fits the crime of your disobedience, Lailah. I accept your proposal," he stated, his words weighing heavily on all in the room.

"Thank you, Michael," Lailah said in softer tones, bowing her head in submission as he nodded once and then glanced at Raphael and Ramiel, both men not hiding their disappointment very well.

"Gentlemen, we must make sure the rest of the angels have made it out safely before the curse is complete. Come," and he disappeared in a flash of blinding light. Ramiel made his way over to Lailah and squeezed her hand, a sense of imploring in his eyes.

"Please be careful," he whispered, and when she nodded, he too vanished.

Raphael was the last archangel in the room and the look of devastation in his eyes was almost more than Lailah could bear. She managed a brave smile as he made his way to her and took her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

"I don't know if what you just did was brave and self-sacrificing or incredibly foolish," he replied and she chuckled.

"Probably both."

"I will make sure to find your father before I leave to tell him that you're staying behind."

"I wish you wouldn't," she said with a sigh, "though I know once you've set your mind to something, it's impossible to convince you otherwise."

"I will reason with Michael and the council to get permission so I can get down here as often as I can with some water from the fount so you can sustain the separation from heaven – though it's only a temporary solution."

"But I thought the curse was supposed to entrap all angels?" Freya chimed in.

"I am no ordinary angel," Raphael said, and he and Lailah both smiled at one another. "You will do as she says," he added, looking at Ana, to David, and then to Freya. "If she has promised to keep you safe, then she will do just that. Trust her."

"We will do all we can to make sure she stays safe as well," David added and Raphael nodded his head in thanks before looking back at Lailah. He looked into her royal blue eyes for an extended moment or two, at first as if he were taking her in, until the gaze changed to one of contemplation.

"That witch's prophecy only mentioned the child, right?" he asked, unsure of whether or not Lailah was telling him everything. His suspicion should have unnerved her, but she held herself well and smiled up at him sweetly.

"Of course it did," she replied. "Don't worry… we'll be fine. You better go before Michael comes back to haul you off himself."

He smiled and kissed her brow tenderly, whispering that he would see her soon before vanishing in a flash.

The moment Raphael was gone, Lailah stood there for several long seconds, her self-proposed banishment from heaven starting to sink in, only to be interrupted by the sound of the soldiers just outside. That seemed to snap her back into reality and she steeled herself once more as she turned around with resolution and pointed toward the hidden door.

"David, please take Ana and the baby down below. Find yourselves a place to hide until I come fetch you." The werewolf wrapped an arm around Ana and escorted her down the stairs as Lailah held open the enchanted door, a wave of her hand causing the lights that led below to light up the path. When they were a safe distance down, Lailah turned to Freya. "I need you to show me where this library is."

"Of course. But shouldn't we put up some kind of protection spell or something to make sure nobody gets in here while we're down below?"

Lailah waved her hand once, her palm illuminating a bright blue color before fading.

"That should do for now. Now come with me. I'll need your help," and she began to descend.

"What did you do?" Freya asked, following after her as the enchanted door shut itself behind them.

"You witches call it a cloaking spell," Lailah explained. "All the soldiers are going to see is an old, rundown building in disrepair – just like the hotel next door."

"How long will it hold?"

"Long enough for you and I to cast something stronger. I've never seen or felt anything quite like the power coming from Dracula's witch. No creature on earth should have that kind of power," and once they reached the bottom of the main stair, she motioned for Freya to lead the way.

"I've heard rumors that a couple hundred years ago, Dracula and another powerful witch – a member of the de Winter line, my family's line – accessed some powerful dark magic through the use of sacrifice," Freya explained.

"Let me guess," the angel said with mild disinterest. "Blood sacrifice? How original."

"There are tunnels that lead through the entire city. Though several sections have collapsed over the years, there's one area in particular that has been declared forbidden to all residents of the city. They call it the 'Empire of the Dead'. Apparently Dracula and this witch practiced sacrificial magic – magic of a very dark and dangerous nature that has been harnessed to fuel much of Dracula's power. The witch was the anchor between Dracula and the energy of those sacrificed, and the dead are now buried beneath that section of the city. I remember growing up hearing that because the power is so great, it tends to burn through witches as we are still mortal, despite our powers, and because the spell was originally cast by a de Winter, he's been kidnapping and using my ancestors as his anchors ever since. When one de Winter witch dies – either from age or from the weight and darkness of the power, he finds another one. Full-blooded, half-blooded, it doesn't matter."

"How many of you are left?"

"There are plenty of half-blooded de Winters in the city. He gathered them in long ago under the false pretense that he'd be protecting them from the world. The half-bloods tend to burn out faster than full-bloods."

"And what are you, Freya?"

The woman paused and turned to look at Lailah, a great deal of depth and untold sadness in her unusual heterochromatic eyes.

"I am the last full-blooded de Winter," she said, allowing the confession to sink in for the first time. "The only other witch with a direct and untainted line to Marcus de Winter." Before she could lose herself to the sadness, she turned and continued to walk, leading Lailah down another hall.

"You don't have any other family?" Lailah pressed, following after her.

"I had an older sister – but she died three years ago," Freya answered solemnly, and Lailah took the hint to drop it.

"How many people did Dracula sacrifice for this magic?"

"No one knows," Freya confessed, her voice a little bit lighter now that the subject had changed. "Some say thousands. Others say millions. Either way, that's numerous lives that were taken before their time, and he's been using and murdering my family for years in order to preserve his power. The only person who hates Dracula more than I do is probably Ana."

"I will never understand what it is with that man declaring war on entire bloodlines," the angel said, though mostly to herself.

Freya hadn't been exaggerating when she had said the mansion down below had been swallowed-whole in the ground. Though many of the rooms had collapsed due to the weight of the earth above, much of it was miraculously intact. The architecture was classic – just as Lailah liked it – and despite the dust and a few areas of decay and disrepair, the majority of the place, along with the furniture, had been well preserved. Yes, she could get used to living here. Freya led her down one last hall before they reached the main floor, then into a small library and Lailah looked about, disappointed.

"When you said there was an old library, I was expecting something a little bit more impressive," she confessed, before noticing that Freya was beginning to push on one of the shelves. To her surprise it turned, though with some difficulty, revealing another set of stairs that led farther below into the earth. "I stand corrected," she said, watching as the witch – taking the chance to show off her own power – lit the torches that illuminated the path with just a wave of her own hand.

Lailah took the lead this time, walking at a brisk place down the stairs and into the darkness until the steps stopped at a hall, which the two women covered quickly and with great purpose before stopping in their tracks to take in the sight as the hall opened up.

Freya had grossly undersold the size and grandeur of this hidden paragon and Lailah stood at the end of that hallway staring for several long moments, just taking in the view. She realized as she walked through a couple rows of shelves that this wasn't just some old library. The entire world's history seemed to be locked away within the walls of this cavernous treasure trove. The room was held up by large columns, some carved to resemble giant beasts that were positioned to look like they were holding up the ceiling.

And in the center of the floor was an enormous mosaic of a dragon with extended wings and a curled tail, a Latin inscription framing the ancient beast.

It was the library of the Order of the Dragon – an order long dead, but their legacy, it would appear, lived on.

"This will do very nicely," Lailah replied, taking in the sight with one final sweep of her eyes before clapping her hands together once and looking over at Freya who had been watching her with curiosity. "Right, now I need you to stand across from me. How practiced are you with magic?"

"I've been practicing for as long as I can remember, though I'm nowhere near as accomplished as my sister was."

"Alright, we need to get something out of the way right now, Freya, because I don't have time for your self-doubt – if you lack confidence in yourself, you will consistently fail and I can't afford any room for failure. There is too much at stake. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," she answered sheepishly. "Sorry."

"I don't want your apologies. I want you to do as I say."

"Yes ma'am."

"And don't call me 'ma'am,'" Lailah added with a hint of exasperation. "We need to disappear from that witch's sight and the only way to do that is to cloak this entire area, starting down below and working our way up."

"Won't a big empty space be suspicious?"

"This is a fairly abandoned part of the city. We'll look like a black hole amidst numerous other black holes. She won't be able to tell the difference. We'll be fine – for the time being. If worse comes to worst, we'll just be stuck underground until we can break the curse and escape. But one problem at a time. Now then…" and she held out her hands, palms facing the ceiling, "Put your hands over mine… not right on top of them, girl. Hover over them."

When Freya had done as she was told, the angel nodded once before shaking off the feeling of uncertainty that had been resting uncomfortably on her own shoulders as she did her best to clear her mind.

Lailah closed her eyes, reaching deep into the earth with her mind, her spirit pulling a great energy up to the surface, that power soon radiating out of her hands and into Freya's. The witch hadn't felt anything like it before and when she followed Lailah's lead by emptying her mind of all concern, the power intensified.

As if it was second nature, the witch mirrored the angel's movements as her hands rose in front of her, palms still facing Lailah's as the light grew in brightness and intensity. They raised their hands slowly, making a grand arch and the light and power extended, filling the entire room and pushing upwards, into the mansion and up the stairs until it enveloped the entire surface of the bar and several blocks surrounding.

When the shield had been lifted and the spell cast, Freya and Lailah ascended from the library in silence – though Freya's was more in awed reverence. It didn't take long for them to find Ana and David, both trying to console a very cross infant. Lailah could see how tired and impatient Ana was quickly becoming as she tried to comfort the child while talking to David.

"I don't know if I can do this," she told him, unaware of Freya and Lailah's presence in the room. "I'm not cut out to be a mother. I just… I can't do this, David. I can't do this by myself. I can't raise a little girl all by myself. I don't even know where to start," and she continued to weep alongside her child, which only made the babe grow more discontented. "Sweetheart, stop, please! Please stop," she pleaded with the inconsolable child, briskly wiping away the tears from her own face. Ana finally noticed Lailah had entered the room and she looked up at the angel with desperation in her eyes. "Help me."

The plea struck Lailah to her core and the gravity of her situation became more and more real to her as she listened to the baby scream and watched the helpless tears tumble down Ana's cheeks. David's expression was one of weariness from listening to the baby cry and being helpless to ease the pain of the love of his life, and Freya – though sympathetic – did not strike Lailah as the kind of person who would be entirely forbearing when it came to screaming children.

It was in that moment the angel realized that much of the work to be done she'd be doing on her own. What had she been thinking, volunteering to stay trapped in this city with a damaged vampire, her werewolf lover, an insecure witch, and a screaming vampire baby?

For the briefest of moments, Lailah had half a mind to summon Michael and beg for his forgiveness, but she banished the thought before it could ever take root in her. She had made her bed, and heaven be damned if she didn't sleep in it.

Lailah, taking a deep, cleansing breath and letting it out nice and slow, allowed her features to soften as she took a step forward and offered to take the child from Ana's weary arms. The woman surrendered the infant with relief and gratitude, and the moment the transfer was complete, the babe grew silent, staring up into Lailah's eyes almost thoughtfully.

Ana and David both sighed in relief when the child stopped crying and Ana collapsed back onto the sofa beside David, who tossed the sheet that had been protecting the piece of furniture onto the floor before wrapping a consoling arm around his lover as they watched the angel and the infant.

"She likes you," David said with a smile.

"I'm glad she likes somebody!" Ana replied, not a single note of bitterness in her voice.

"She just likes my blood," Lailah said, and to prove her point, she hovered her finger over the child's mouth and watched as the teeny-tiny fangs poked through the infant's gums. "The little glutton," she said teasingly and the child smiled as if it understood her.

"Just like her father," Ana said, her comment sounding more like a lamentation.

But Lailah did not allow it to spoil the mood. They needed to stay positive and hopeful and focused, and though Ana had almost two years-worth of Dracula-filled baggage to deal with, Lailah was certain they would get through it. All of them would. It would just take time.

"Have you decided on a name for her yet?" the angel asked as the babe fed on her finger, the infant gradually falling back asleep.

"Vlad wanted to name her Helle," Ana explained, unaware of how wide Lailah's eyes had become at the sound of the name.

"I kind of like that name," David replied. "When she disobeys, we can call her 'little Hell.'"

"The Count has lost any right to have his wishes adhered to," Lailah insisted, hiding her discomfort as best she could.

Fortunately, it worked.

"You're right. We'll have to call her something else," David insisted, pulling Ana tighter into his arms and resting his head atop hers.

Having him close seemed to soothe the vampire considerably and the lines of worry that had marred her features began to relax. When the child was asleep, Lailah handed her back to her mother, who seemed far more receptive now, having David there as literal support.

"It'll have to be a good name – one worthy of her destiny," Freya chimed in, leaning over the back of the sofa so she could look down at the slumbering infant in Ana's arms.

"She is the first of her kind," Lailah pointed out. "What about 'Eva?'"

"Eva," Ana tried the name out on her lips, saying it once or twice while looking down at the baby, with her dark hair and impossibly soft cheeks. The name seemed to resonate with the mother and her smile met her eyes for the first time that evening, much to Lailah's relief.

"It's perfect," Ana said sweetly, caressing the child's face with the back of her finger with a moving amount of tenderness. "My little Eva…"

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><p><strong>First things first - I wanted to send out an ENORMOUS thank you for those who not only read the first chapter, but to those who followed, favorited, andor reviewed. I've been stalking my story traffic like some kind of psychopath (something I need to _not _do in the future) and I am so grateful to those of you who took the time to review -** Shawny.a**,** Scarlet Empress**,** invisible reader**,** ForeverACharmedOne**,** Angel of Beauty**,** Guest**,** Darling Empress**,** the countess**,** **and** Angels in Parachutes**. Thank you for your commentary, your critiques, and (most importantly) your support. **

****Now one or two of you had asked what my publishing schedule** for this story will be. **

**After chapter 3 is published, I will go into an **every other Friday** publishing schedule. **

**This allows me the time to make any necessary last-minute edits, as well as the MUCH needed time to get work done on my next story (one of the resurrections/revamps) so by the time we're done with this, we can dive straight into the next one without the horrendous wait time. This schedule also allows me the wiggle room needed to get everything I want done without it interfering with regular life - job, family, personal-time, etc.  
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**Initially, I was going to follow this schedule for the whole story, but because your responses in the reviews were so encouraging, I figured I'd bend my rules a bit and give you the first three chapters closer together, rather than farther apart (if that makes sense). So yes, you read that correctly - you have those who reviewed to thank for getting this chapter now instead of next Friday. **

**Now, I do apologize for the serious lack of his nibs in this chapter (I can already hear the exclamations of woe), but I'm still setting up the foundation for this story. Have no fear - he will return in all his undead, arrogant glory in chapter 3.**

**I understand that spending all this time with original characters can be a struggle, but I promise you, our beloved Count will become more prominent as the story continues and all of this set up will be worth it when things really start to take off. I just hope that in time you come to love these characters as much as I have over the last year of working on this story. I poured a lot into them. I hope it shows - if not now, then at least eventually. **

**Thank you for stopping by, and remember - reviews are highly encouraged. I take feedback, reactions, demands, suggestions, questions, critiques, flames, praise - whatever you feel like sharing. Heck, I'm happy with one-liner requests to "update soon." It shows me that you care and are engaged and this motivates me to do better and (as is the case this week) to update sooner. **

**I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend! **


	3. Chapter 3

**I obviously don't own anything associated with _Van Helsing_ or Stephen Sommer's brain-child in general - although Count Dracula is _technically_ public domain. Oh, the plethora of inappropriate jokes I could make on THAT front.  
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****Forgive any errors I may have missed**. I did try to catch them all, but I may have overlooked a few. It happens.  
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><p><em><strong>III<strong>_

_10 Years Later_

There was a long table in the center of the room, covered with stacks upon stacks of books – some new, many old, and several ancient looking. Every seat at the table was filled with a servant of Count Dracula, each pouring over pages of literature or text as they searched for something – anything – about the mysterious angel their master had encountered a decade ago.

Ever since that fateful evening, when his Valerious-born bride and newborn child had gone missing, the vampire had become desperate to find anything on this new, enigmatic enemy, this woman whom he had never seen or heard of in the span of several lifetimes. For ten long years, they had searched, combing through every book, every novel, and every history in search of her name. Unfortunately, over those ten long years, they had discovered little and their master had long since run out of patience.

Every evening at the same time for at least an hour, the Count would pace furiously in front of the table, watching those in his employ as their tired eyes scanned over text after text – and every evening, he was given the same disappointing report – no news.

The only miniscule piece of relevant information that they had found was that she was this supposed "Angel of the Night" as mentioned in the prophecy – but her occupation or purpose was mostly unknown. Much of her existence was shrouded in mystery, and though the Count could not help but be intrigued, he had grown weary of the otherwise fruitless research.

To make matters worse, his witch, though her curse over the city had been most effective, was still unable to locate this Lailah or Ana or his daughter – if she was indeed still alive.

At long last, Dracula had had enough.

After receiving yet again another worthless report, he released his rage on those studious servants, unleashing a ferocious roar of pent-up frustration. With an unforgiving grip, he took the massive table in his hands while everyone was still seated and he flipped it over violently, the papers and loose pages of the volumes flying about as several chairs – and persons – were smashed from the impact of the table.

He then stalked angrily towards his adjoining study after ordering everyone to clean up and get back to work. Upon entering the private room, with one strong swipe of his arm, the articles on his desk flew to the ground before he smacked his palms on the polished surface, gripping the edge of the desk in an effort to regain his lost composure. He could feel his captain of the guard – Zane – standing in the doorway in obedient silence, awaiting an order – any order. But the Count never gave one. Instead he turned to look at his faithful servant and he sighed most bitterly.

"It's been ten years, Zane," he struggled, leaning against the edge of the desk. "Ten long years, and nothing. Not a word. Not even a single peep."

"Yes, my lord," the solider answered solemnly.

"Sometimes I feel like maybe they escaped after all, like that infuriatingly arrogant bitch of an angel managed to get the upper hand on me. _Me_."

"But we know she did not, my lord," Zane reminded him. "The angel, Ana, and the werewolf have all been spotted on several occasions. But when we move in to retrieve them for you, they always manage to vanish into thin air."

"This is unacceptable!" the Count snapped, smacking his fist on the desk angrily before walking behind it so he could take a seat.

"We are doing the best we can, your grace."

"Well your best has clearly become not good enough, Zane," Dracula hissed. "I have grown weary of being disappointed again and again and again…" His voice had taken on a dangerous tone as his eyes glowed with unspeakable fury. "We need to find that angel – if we can get to her, we can get to Ana and my daughter."

"I may have a solution, my lord," came the low response of a female in the doorway.

Dracula looked up to find his last remaining bride, Verena, leaning against the frame of the door, dressed in a provocative nightgown and silk robe that was loosely tied around her waist. Her presence soothed his rage dramatically. Few things gave him greater pleasure than Verena – she was his greatest accomplishment. She had been with him since his resurrection in 1890, and though their relationship had always been a complicated one, even when she strayed, she remained fiercely loyal to him. He liked to believe it was because of the hold he had over her, though deep down he knew she had just as powerful of a hold on him as well.

The Count had always assumed that he'd grow tired of her one day, perhaps find another bride as he had in the past, but Verena always managed to surprise him. She was a stunning creature, with dark auburn hair, equally dark eyes that could melt any man or woman, and a figure to rival any goddess. He extended his hand to her, beckoning her to come to him as he glanced over at Zane who was having trouble keeping himself from staring at his master's bride.

"And what news do you have for me, my pet?"

"You know one of your blood-girls, Helena? The pretty redheaded one?" and she took his hand and kissed it devotedly before making her way behind his seat so she could rub his shoulders in an effort to fully pacify him.

"Yes?"

"A little birdy just told me that she's been making contact with a certain woman whom you've been most keen on finding."

"You mean to tell me that that delightful little wench knows how to find that insufferable angel that my witch and captain of the guard seem incapable of locating?" He said this with great sarcasm and the two vampires both looked at Zane who tried his best to hide his humiliation.

"Yes, lover," Verena purred, continuing to rub his shoulders.

"Nicely done. We'll have to extract that valuable information from Helena as soon as possible. Where is she now? Zane, you must fetch her."

"No need for that, my lord," Verena insisted. "The angel has managed to wipe her memory of the exact location after every meeting, and if we go after this Lailah full force and unprepared, it could prove disastrous."

"An excellent point. At least I can be sure that _you_ will never disappoint me," and he patted her hand as she continued to rub the tension out of his shoulders and neck while he glared at Zane. "Verena, my love, is Helena still here?"

"Yes, my lord. I personally saw to it that she was reminded of her place. I left her in the dungeon to contemplate her poor decisions."

"Perhaps we can make the most of those poor decisions," Dracula considered aloud. "Zane? Fetch Helena and bring her here. I would speak with her."

"Yes master," and Zane quickly exited the room to carry out the order, leaving Verena and the Count alone. When Verena was certain the captain of the guard was out of earshot, she moved forward and wrapped her arms about Dracula's neck, leaning against him, her cheek resting against his.

"There is more, my lord."

"Oh?"

"It would appear Helena has been feeding the angel information as well."

"What kind of information?"

"Floor-maps of the palace, any information we may have learned about this Lailah. She also mentioned that the angel is particularly interested in that witch of yours."

"Undoubtedly. She's probably trying to find a way to break the curse. Anything else?"

"I did get some information out of Helena about the angel – not much, but it's more than what we had before."

"What did she tell you?" he asked, taking her hand and leading her over to face him, but she sat on his lap instead.

"Not much, because most of her memories of those visits have been erased from her mind – which tells me that this angel is not only powerful, but intelligent. She doesn't trust anyone."

"Did Helena learn anything that could be of use to us?"

"No, but it made me think – have you contemplated, I mean, would you consider meeting with Lailah in person, if such a meeting could be arranged?"

"I would infinitely prefer to speak to the angel face-to-face than carry on like we have been for the last decade."

"Because if you were to meet with her," Verena continued, "you could gauge what her weaknesses are," and her hand which had been resting on his shoulder began to slide slowly down the front of his chest.

"Go on," he encouraged and she lifted her leg so her knees were on either side of him now, the skirt of her gown hiked up precariously, and his hands smoothed over the flesh of her thighs in a repeated sweeping motion, the caresses gentle and slow.

"And when you find that weakness in her, which you inevitably shall, you could exploit it; make her an offer she cannot refuse." Verena hovered her lips over the Count's as she gripped the back of the seat with her hands and slid up his lap, making certain that his eyes had a proper view of her endowments before rocking her hips against him. "Everyone wants something," she breathed, pleased when she saw the wantonness in his bright blue irises. "This Lailah has been separated from heaven for over ten years now. Surely she'd be willing to negotiate in order to go back to whatever cloud she happened to fall from."

Verena continued to grind against him, her fingers hovering over his mouth as his fangs lengthened in arousal.

"Your thoughtfulness does you credit, my love, but I feel she will not be easily swayed," he managed as his favored bride moved in and kissed his neck.

"Why do you say that, my king?" her voice a deep moan when she felt his hands grab hold of her backside, forcing her to rub harder against him.

"If we were dealing with anyone else, your suggestion would be a viable option. Even the greatest of heaven's archangels have weaknesses. Gabriel had an abundance of them."

"Gabriel? You mean Van Helsing? The hunter from all those years ago?" and she nibbled his ear.

"Yes. All creatures have weakness, pressure points that if struck just right can cause even the strongest of men to crack," and she felt his nails dig into her soft flesh, the little bites of pain exciting her.

"What makes you think this angel is so different? She is only a woman, after all."

"You of all people should know that the female sex is never to be underestimated."

Verena grinned wickedly.

"How true that is, my lord."

Verena's lips were met with a ferocious kiss that soon had her caged on the table, the Count perched over her. His hips pushed demandingly between her legs as his eager hands devoured the well-known territory of her lithe figure. The teasing of earlier rapidly evolved into a mindless copulation as Dracula came to ease himself inside of the accepting flesh of his bride.

The angle and force behind his every thrust was precise and purposeful, to the point where despite her experience, she could not last long beneath him. Within what felt like mere minutes, she was crying out wantonly, the delicious tension between them erupting into a sweet release.

She could feel him trembling above her as the last few aftershocks of her master's orgasm eventually rippled through his body and when she was certain that they were both sated, Verena released his waist from her legs which had wrapped around him. His absence when he pulled out to retake his seat in the chair left her hollow, but she knew her master well, and made sure she remained lying shamelessly on his desk, knees apart so he could enjoy the view.

Verena sat up slowly, hoping to find his eyes on her, but was disappointed that he was once again staring off into the distance, as if he were somewhere else entirely. She had never seen him so distracted before. This angel had left her mark on the Count's brain and try as Verena might, she could not root the angel out.

Not to say that the Count ever declined the opportunity to sleep with his bride – or any other woman, for that matter. His appetites remained unchanged. But it was starting to feel as though he were merely going through the motions, as if he ravished her or any other woman in an effort to convince himself and others that this angel, whoever she was, had not affected him.

But she had affected him, the evidence was there on his face as he stared mindlessly into the distance, his thoughts so far away from the here and now and Verena was at a loss.

In the last ten years, she had exhausted all of her resources, all of the tactics and manipulations in her arsenal that usually brought his attention back to her. They weren't working like they used to, and though she hid it well, it concerned her greatly.

"What is it about this angel, my lord, that troubles your mind so?" she asked at last, breaking the silence and making herself more presentable before him. His eyes never came back to hers when he responded.

"I pride myself in being an excellent judge of character, Verena. I can usually gauge a person's disposition, their temperament and nature, their strengths and their vices in a single meeting. But this angel… this Lailah," and his voice drifted for a moment in thoughtful recollection of his meeting with her ten years ago – a meeting he had replayed in his mind countless times since. "There's something about her I can't quite put my finger on."

"Do you think perhaps you've met her before and simply can't remember?"

"I could never forget that face – that steel expression, those dark blue eyes…"

His voice trailed off once more and something dreadful began to settle in Verena's stomach. She watched her master with a careful expression for several long moments of silence before she realized – Count Dracula, like all men, had weaknesses, and though his weaknesses were more favorite sins than anything else, there was one weakness in particular that hooked him every single time.

The Count loved a challenge.

Especially when that challenge was a beautiful woman.

Verena wondered why she hadn't figured it out sooner and she mentally kicked herself for being so dense. No wonder her master was so obsessed!

"Do you know what vital piece of information we have overlooked, my lord?" she said, the sound of her voice pulling him violently out of whatever thoughts he had been having and his eyes found hers. "What is the difference between this Lailah and an archangel like Gabriel?" She allowed her query to sink in for a moment before answering the otherwise rhetorical question. "Lailah is _just_ an angel, my love. What's more, she's a lesser angel, lower class. Why do you think we can hardly find any information on her? Because of her position. When you met her, what was your first impression of her?"

"She's arrogant, stubborn, very intelligent, but also well-guarded, as if she's hiding something, some great secret. She does not seem intimidated by prospects of danger, which suggests a superiority complex, but she's also very much in control."

"Does that sound like the personality of a _lesser _angel to you?"

"No, it does not. I've met my fair share of them, they were all the same – ambitious but still so human, so easily manipulated. This one feels different."

"Everyone can be bought at the right price, my love, and I believe this angel is no exception. We just have to figure out what we can give her – protection, sex, power, or whatever it may be. I do believe it has become necessary to insist on proper introductions, however. If we're going to get Ana and the child back, we need this angel out of the picture."

"And in order to do that effectively, we need to know what we're dealing with – yes, I see your point," he finished, his finger and thumb stroking his chin in a thoughtful manner as he mulled it over in his brain, the idea of meeting Lailah again.

"If the angel is uncooperative, we have other options available, but first, let us try the civilized approach. Besides," and she finally slid off the table, noting that Zane was nearby with Helena, "Your anniversary celebration is coming up. We could always invite her to the party. It would be an excellent opportunity to show your strength and sphere of influence. And the timing would be fairly convenient as well."

"That's if she even accepts the invitation in the first place – I doubt she'd come. Being the only angel amidst a sea of monsters? No – she'd have to be either very foolish or very desperate to even entertain such a request," he replied with a smirk. "Unless she's far more powerful than we originally assumed - then it could prove disastrous. But I suppose it's worth a try. I mean, what have we to lose?" and he smiled up at her. "Very well, my love, we'll do this your way, though don't be surprised if she doesn't take the bait."

"Oh, she'll take the bait. Besides, she'd be just another person to show off my new gown to. I wonder if angels are fashionably conscious?"

"You women – always love to dress up, don't you?"

"Oh my love, we don't dress up for our own amusement. Besides, the best dresses aren't meant to be worn for long. They're meant to be taken off," and she sent him a devious grin that he returned with a licentious expression.

She exited the room just as Zane and Helena were entering, the redheaded woman silently crying as the soldier held her roughly by her arm, practically dragging her into the study and throwing her at the feet of the Count who was now leaning against the front of his desk again.

Dracula watched the weeping woman with an unusual amount of curiosity, rather than the anger Zane had been expecting. But when he noted the wicked look in Verena's eyes, he realized that the wench had put an idea into his master's head. He'd find out what it was soon enough.

"Thank you, Zane. You may go," the Count replied, waving him off with his hand. When his captain of the guard was gone, Dracula walked over to the door, each step calculated to make Helena all the more anxious to the point of visibly cringing when he shut the door and locked it, sealing them in the room together. She could feel his eyes on her as he circled the room, the sound of each slow step causing her heart to race furiously in a dreadful anticipation at what he would do.

Dracula allowed the silence to reign for several long, torturous moments, relishing in the smell of her fear. He could still recall the first time he had laid eyes on her. Every year, men and women broken by hardship or struggling against starvation would come to the gates of the palace, offering their sons or daughters to feed his people or serve in his home, all for gold or food. Those sold to him always harbored a terrible sense of bitterness towards their families who gave them up for a handsome reward, but Helena had been different.

No one had tried to sell her.

She had sold herself.

And her price – the heads of her family's killers, a pair of his soldiers who had tormented her family for years before brutally slaughtering them. He could still recall how astonished he had been when he had first met her, barely able to pay attention to her tale of woe as she had so reminded him of his long-lost bride, the vivacious Aleera.

Helena had the same red hair, the same beautifully pale skin. But unlike the fire and borderline insanity in Aleera's eyes, Helena's eyes were cold and dead, the consequence of being consumed by vengeance and a longing to join her family in heaven. He had intended to make her a servant, but after feasting on her blood just once, he knew that such a position would never do.

So he tortured the killers of her family for all to see, and when the soldiers were dead and their heads presented to her, he made her one of his blood girls, a group of women he bedded and fed from exclusively – selected from the finest stock of humans in the city, and each one exceptionally beautiful.

But Helena had been different from the others.

Where most fought for his attention and the pleasure he could offer, Helena never sought it, though her implicit obedience up until this moment had been an amiable feature of hers.

A part of him wondered what had changed.

"Stand, child," he ordered her gently, bending down to take her chin in his hand and she raised her eyes to him, standing slowly. "Verena tells me you have been very disobedient, my dear. Is that true?"

"Yes, master," she answered dutifully, eyes falling to the floor when he released her chin.

"I understand you've been in contact with the angel, Lailah, as well as Ana. Is this also true?" and he began to circle her.

"Yes, master," was her reply and her head fell, several locks of her curly red hair falling in front of her face.

"How did Ana get in contact with you?"

She looked up expectantly.

"Forgive my impertinence, master, but how did you know it was Ana?"

"The two of you were fairly close when she was living here. I have not forgotten that. Now, answer the question, Helena," he urged her with an unnerving amount of patience.

"I accompanied you, the mistress Verena, and several others into the city some months ago, master, and a woman I had not seen before approached me with a note signed by Ana Val."

"Why did you not speak of this before?"

"The woman had magic, master… she – she kissed me and cursed my lips. I could not speak of what I had heard or seen."

"Why are you able to speak now?"

"She lifted the curse after I did as she asked."

"And what did she ask of you, child?"

"There was a church – Istovar chapel, I believe is what it's called."

"But that part of town has been mostly abandoned for years. What do the locals tend to call it? Such a charming name…"

"The Devil's District, sir."

"Yes, that's it. Why did she want to meet you out there?"

"I did not know, my lord, but Ana was not there. Someone else had come in her place."

That seemed to catch the Count's attention and he dare not let himself hope that the person of whom she spoke was the very woman he wanted to get in contact with.

"Was it a woman? An angel, perchance, my dear? Blonde hair, dark blue eyes, slight air of arrogance about her?"

"I can't confirm whether or not she is an angel, my lord. I can never recall much of anything after our visits, but she is as you describe."

"Did she give you her name?"

"No master. I do not know her name."

"How many times have you met her?"

"That I can recall? Perhaps a dozen."

"And what information do you bring her?"

Ah – there was the question Helena had been afraid of. The torment she had undergone when Verena had been questioning her beforehand had been brutal, and though Verena had healed the woman so she could inform her master, Helena could still feel the cold steel of a scalpel carving into the skin of her breasts, over her belly and down her thighs. She shuddered at the thought. To avoid further punishment, she answered the Count's queries.

"At first she wanted floor plans to the palace – including any tunnels that may run underneath the foundation. She was also extremely interested in the witch."

"My witch?"

"Yes."

"What did you tell her?"

"I am very ignorant on such matters, master, but I told her what I knew. I told her that she resides in the eastern tower, that you have been having the witch and many of your servants searching for information on the angel, Lailah, for ten years and that you've had little success. At least, that's all I remember telling her."

The Count, though miffed that he had managed to go several months completely unaware that he had a mole in his midst, was surprisingly calm. Knowing Verena's taste for cruelty and seeing the state Helena was in, he could only imagine that his bride had done a number on the girl.

Though usually he rewarded traitors with grisly demises, the more the thought about it, the more he realized that Helena could be quite useful to him. So he stood before her, in all his dark majesty, and he looked directly into her eyes, consciously making sure his features softened visibly. He even smiled a little.

"My dear, there is no need to be frightened," he assured her. "I forgive you for your wrong-doings and you will receive no further punishment than that which has already been placed upon you." Helena's teal colored eyes filled with tears as she fell to his feet and cried softly, her hands gripping the ends of his pants.

"Oh thank you, master. Thank you."

He bent down and gently took the side of her face in his hand, bringing her eyes to meet his gaze as he brushed a few of her tears away with a tenderness that surprised and soothed her greatly.

"You were manipulated, my dear. That is not your fault."

"Yes, master."

"I know your time here has been a trying one," he added to her astonishment. "And I know that when you came to me all those years ago, it was in the name of the family you had lost." The deep sadness in her eyes amused him greatly. So easy to play, this one. "My darling, the woman you met in that church, she stole my family from me and I have spent the last ten years striving to get them back but to no avail… until now."

"My lord?"

"Helena, my pet, I need you do to something very important for me."

"Yes master. I'll do anything, anything you ask."

His smile turned malicious.

"Of course you will."

The Count stretched forth his hand, two fingers lightly touching her brow and she felt a strange heaviness in her head that weighed down on her brain with such force, everything went black, her body going limp as it fell to the floor and her head hit the ground with a sickening smack. Dracula stood from his previously crouched position, all affection gone from his face as he looked down with mild disdain at the unconscious Helena on the ground.

He shouted for Zane, who entered the room instantly and the Count motioned towards the woman.

"Take her back to her chambers. Chain her to the bed if you must. I want a guard posted at her door at all times. She is not to leave until I summon her, is that understood?"

"Yes master," and Zane lifted Helena up with ease, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her out of the room. Verena shortly thereafter appeared, clearly displeased that the redheaded whore her master often fed from was still alive. She sent him a questioning look.

"Is there a reason why the little traitor's heart still beats?" she asked as the Count exited from his study and she followed after him.

"I'll need her alive in order to deliver a message."

"What message?"

"Tell the servants that in addition to their usual preparations for the anniversary ball, they'll need to prepare the sitting room on the floor of the ballroom as well. And I've been meaning to ask, have the invitations been sent out yet? I assume we're sticking to the usual list, of course. I'll need one made up for Lailah as well."

"My love?" Verena called out in a slightly agitated tone as he began to ascend the grand stairs. He stopped and turned back to look at her.

"Yes?"

"Before I send for the _butler_ or the _housekeeper _to take down your dictation, why all the extravagance?"

"I can't very well leave a bad first impression when our guest of honor arrives, now can I?" he answered cheekily and she sent him a look.

"Count, what are you up to? Does the girl know how to find the angel? Does she know where Ana and the child are hiding?"

"Not presently, no. But we don't need that right now. We just need her to extend the invitation," was his reply and he continued to ascend. "We shall invite this angel to attend the ball where she and I will discuss some kind of arrangement. I'll give her whatever she wants for Ana and the child – or at the very least, Ana."

"And what if Lailah refuses?" she called out before he could get too far. "What if she doesn't come?"

Dracula stopped once again, only this time he didn't turn around to face her. He smiled to himself, feeling positively devious.

"Oh, she'll come. She won't be able to resist."

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><p><strong>The plot thickens! And see? I told you his grace would return in all his smexy and villainous glory. Oh, the evil things he and I have planned for the future. It makes me want to laugh maniacally.<br>**

**Another round of thanks to those who reviewed chapter 2 - **Scarlet Empress**, **Guest**, **Shawny.a**, **invisible reader**, **Angel of Beauty** (I'm so glad you're back!), **Darling Empress**, **the countess**, and **ForeverACharmedOne**. You guys just make me so happy, I wish I could hug you or give you a cookie or something. Please keep the reviews coming! I love reading them!  
><strong>

**Friendly reminder that the next update won't be for another two weeks - so chapter 4 will go live on **November 28th**. **

**Until then, my friends, please do LEAVE A REVIEW so I know how you liked (or maybe didn't like) the chapter and I'll see you next time!  
><strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Sometimes plans need to get thrown to the wayside. Right now is one of those times.**

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><p><em><strong>IV<strong>_

Business had been rather slow that evening – as it had been almost every other evening since the establishment opened – not that Freya minded. Some semblance of social intercourse outside of the usual Ana, Lailah, David, and little Eva was better than nothing at all, even if most of those social interactions involved pouring drinks and lightly flirting with strangers. What she really craved, however, was the weekend – when she was actually allowed to leave the boundary of her and Lailah's protective spell over the place, giving her the chance to interact with… well, more strangers.

Actually, now that she thought of it, Freya realized she hadn't had much of a social life the past decade. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the company of her eccentric, adopted family. but things had grown a little stale in the last year or so and Freya was starved of some excitement. The closest thing to a thrill she had had – and it wasn't much – was when Helena would arrive with more news from the palace.

Her last customer of the evening silently paid for the drink she had poured him and then he exited the otherwise dead bar. Ana was in the back, cleaning the kitchen for the umpteenth time that week, the child had been down below with Lailah for the last nine hours, and David was out patrolling the perimeter to make sure there were no questionable personages lurking about. With a flick of Freya's wrist, the "open" sign in the window grew dark and the front doors locked of their own accord as the witch began to buff the already glistening counter.

God, she needed to get out from within these four walls.

She would go mad for sure if she didn't experience a change in scenery soon.

In an effort to dispel the cabin fever she could feel clawing in the back of her brain, with a wave of her hand, the radio clicked on. She turned up the music, allowing the heavy guitar and head-bang-inducing beat to soothe her soul.

A familiar song was soon blaring as the witch let loose, singing along while using the broom as her guitar, much to the amusement of Ana who had emerged from the kitchen to see what all the noise was about.

"What are you so happy about?" the vampire teased.

"I have so much bottled-up energy – if I don't let it out somehow, I will lose my freaking mind!" the witch explained, opening her hair and shaking out the brown waves as she danced about in the middle of the room.

"I know the feeling!" Ana laughed. "You'd think we'd have found a way to break the curse and get out of here by now."

"Come and dance with me!" Freya called, extending her hand in a beckoning manner. "You should come with me when I go into the city tomorrow."

"What? Just the two of us? You remember what happened last time? You got drunk and I had to carry you home and we almost got caught by some soldiers on patrol."

"We can bring David if you'd like."

"Lailah probably wouldn't mind," Ana conceded. "She and Eva spend so much time together already – what's another evening?"

"Precisely!"

Meanwhile, the sound of a Chopin Nocturne lulled in the background of a comfortably furnished sitting room down below, a pleasant interruption to the otherwise comfortable silence. Lailah was seated in one of the large high-backed armchairs, her long legs elegantly crossed to prop up the aged book in her lap – the scene a perfect contrast to the ruckus upstairs.

The other person in attendance was seated on the sofa on the opposite side of the room, the child's comparably short legs crisscrossed beneath her to provide a relatively flat surface that held up a sketchbook.

The young girl's magnificently bright blue eyes continued to move back and forth between the angel seated quietly across from her and the open page of the sketchbook in her lap, her brows furrowed in absolute concentration as she moved her pencil with precision across the page, making sure the sharpened lead moved at the just the right angle.

Each calculated stroke of her hand provided an array of additional lines, curves, and shading that she blended with one of her fingers so the finely broken graphite would imprint the page perfectly.

Lailah sighed absentmindedly as the piano music crescendoed, her fingers turning the page of the book she was reading before propping her head up with her fist.

"Don't move!" the girl suddenly said, the sound of her voice breaking the silence, the urgency in her tone momentarily surprising the woman. Lailah looked up from her book for just a moment, her brow arching as if in expectation and the child blushed, her eyes diverting away from the intense gaze which had fallen on her. "Please," she added sheepishly.

The word seemed to appease the angel and she moved her hand away from her face, resting it on the arm of the chair once again, her index finger absently tracing the pattern in the upholstery.

"Sketching me again?" Lailah asked bemusedly, already knowing the answer to that question. "You really need to find another subject for your drawings, Eva, dear. People are going to suspect a partiality on your part."

"I don't care what other people think," Eva answered simply as she shaded in the gentle shadow beneath her drawing of Lailah's cheekbones. The angel felt a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

"I know, dear, but perhaps you should start giving the thoughts and feelings of others some semblance of consideration, at least."

"Freya is busy and Mom says I can't be upstairs until the bar closes and everyone is gone."

"It sounds pretty closed to me," Lailah replied, honing in her listening for just a moment, catching the sounds of Freya and Ana laughing upstairs in the distance. "I don't know why I let that witch talk me into opening the place for actual business," she then confessed, though mostly to herself. "It's not like we get any business anyway. Doesn't seem worth the risk to me."

Eva never responded. She only continued to draw, working on the details of Lailah's all-black lace dress, doing her best to catch as many of the intricate details as possible – which was quite the task. But as was to be expected of a child of merely ten years, Eva grew impatient and she placed the pencil down, instead contenting herself with watching her "aunt Lailah" – as she had come to call her. And, just a short time after that, she grew weary of observing and the silence and she stood.

"Aunt Lailah, I'm bored," Eva proclaimed, making her way over to the angel and sitting on the arm of the chair so she could peer over her shoulder to see what it was she was reading.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Lailah answered rather unconvincingly, but the girl never took offense.

"What are you reading?"

"Just another worthless spell book that doesn't have what I'm looking for," she replied with a sigh, eventually shutting it in defeat and allowing the girl to slip off the arm of the chair and into her lap, her arms instinctively wrapping around the child, as to hold her. "It would appear," she continued, "as I feared, that the only way to break this curse on the city is if the Count's witch does it for us."

Lailah sighed heavily, the sweet air that left her mouth heavy with defeat and Eva looked up at her.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, dear. It's not your fault. We'll just have to find another way."

Eva rested her head on Lailah's collar, listening to the angel's heartbeat.

"But it feels like my fault," the child whispered solemnly. Lailah's arms tighten around the girl in an effort to comfort her.

"Well it's not. If anyone is to take the blame for our situation, it's me. I'm the one who couldn't get you out in time. I'm the one who, in a moment of conceit, let Dracula know that you were alive. If I had not been so arrogant, so foolish, he never would have known and we could have escaped."

"I had another dream about him last night," the girl confessed and Lailah could hear the fear in her quiet voice.

"The usual one?"

She felt the child shudder in her hold.

"Yes."

Eva had been having nightmares for as long as she could remember. Although they weren't nearly as frequent as they used to be, the deep sense of symbolism and the vividness of the images had only intensified with age. The child had come to keep most of the details to herself, especially where her mother was concerned.

The child loved Ana and had no doubt that her mother loved her in return, but the topic of Dracula always seemed to create an unpleasantness between parent and child, so Eva only ever spoke about these dreams to Lailah.

The angel asked the child if she wanted to talk about the dream, but Eva said "no," and so Lailah dropped it.

"Do you think mom will let me go outside again?" Eva shortly thereafter inquired, having a sudden desire to change the subject.

"Perhaps. I think I overheard your Aunt Freya making plans to go into town tomorrow evening with your parents. We could go out then? Is there anywhere in particular you'd like to go?"

"I'd like to visit Venetian square again," the child answered as inconspicuously as she could, but Lailah sent her a knowing grin.

"You just want to visit the chocolate shop on the corner so you can manipulate the owner into giving you free truffles," Lailah replied knowingly, though she did so with a smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Eva insisted with her best faux-innocent grin, but the angel saw right through it and began to tickle the girl, digging her fingers into her sides.

"Don't play coy with me, missy!"

The girl laughed while protesting, scrambling out of the angel's hold and backing away quickly toward the door. The two laughed and teased one another which resulted in Lailah chasing Eva down the hall and up the stairs towards the ground level of the bar, where they were met with loud music and high energy.

After the door was shut and cloaked, Lailah leaned up against the open archway that led between the back hall and the main part of the bar, watching as Eva ran up to her mother and leapt into her arms, much to the amusement of the witch. As they danced about the room, the angel stayed back, silent and still, ever observing but never joining in.

She couldn't believe how rapidly the last ten years had passed, how much the child had grown. That first year in particular had been the hardest, especially on Ana who not only had to adjust to her new role as a mother, but who also found herself suffering from PTSD whenever the city's sirens blared, announcing another search as Dracula's men tore through the streets in frantic search of the child.

Freya turned out to be an invaluable asset, as her magic, in combination with Lailah's angelic powers, protected them from Dracula and the sight of his witch. She and David also knew the city thoroughly, the two spending the earlier part of their days mapping out alternative routes through the city in case anyone was in need of a quick escape – a foresight which proved incredibly useful, as there had been several occasions when such getaways came in handy.

Yes, that first year had been a trying one, but they made it through – all of them did, together. They were quite the little family and Lailah had unwittingly become the glue that held them all together. She had grown fond of the witch, the vampire, the werewolf, and the child – more so than was probably prudent, considering who and what she was. But having dedicated the last decade of her existence to protecting them, how could she not come to care? After all, she was no machine.

The lot of them bore their confinement well, but Lailah had been able to tell for a while that it was getting to them. They needed to get out of this city; that need becoming more and more clear every day.

Her thoughts were momentarily interrupted as she heard David come in through the backdoor. He was dressed in his usual faded and torn denim jeans, thick boots, and open military-styled jacket, his sculpted torso bare for everyone to see. Lailah had learned – rather quickly – that David Blackwood had a bit of an exhibitionist streak in him and barely any concept of modesty.

Freya and Ana didn't seem to mind, as they were the product of their generation, with very little concept or regard for what Lailah considered to be proper. But she had realized long ago that she would never win that debate, and so she kept her thoughts on that point to herself, though there were instances where she really did wonder if the werewolf owned a shirt.

David leaned against the other side of the wall where Lailah was situated, joining her in watching as the others danced about in the middle of the room.

"Anything of interest happen while I was out?" he asked, rubbing the several days' worth of growth on his cheeks.

"Not particularly. It's been a relatively quiet evening."

"Another day in paradise."

Before she could ask how his rounds had gone, Eva had spotted him out of the corner of her eye.

"Dad!" she shouted, running towards the man she had come to call father, leaping up into his open arms.

The angel watched as David spun the child about. He had been such a good sport about all of this – about Ana, and especially Eva. The werewolf treated the child as if she were his own flesh and blood – and for all intents and purposes, he was her father – the best father the child could have asked for. He was good to her, and he loved her mother more than anything else in the world – nobody had any doubts about that.

As soon as he put the child down after dancing about with her for a bit, he pulled Ana into his arms with an open suggestiveness in his eyes.

"Ah, there's my woman," and he kissed her thoroughly for all to see. "And how has your evening been?"

"Uneventful. I missed you," Ana said with just the hint of a teasing whine in her voice as she wrapped her arms around his neck. This seemed to please him, as his look became ravenous and he pressed his forehead against hers.

"What are you doing later?"

"Riding you."

"Hell yes, you are," and he kissed her once more.

Eva let out an audible "yuck", much to the amusement of Lailah and Freya, the two women rolling their eyes simultaneously.

"Good lord, get a room!" Freya exclaimed, shoving David and Ana playfully towards the door that led downstairs.

"Don't mind if I do," he said with a laugh, lifting Ana up and tossing her over his shoulder, but before they could reach the enchanted door, the energy in the room shifted rather dramatically and both Lailah and Freya physically felt it.

It was a strange kind of pulsation and it moved through the air once, and then again. David must have sensed it too, for he froze in place after putting Ana down, all humor and lust gone from his face as he looked about the room in a concerned fashion.

"Did you feel that?" Freya said, looking over at Lailah. The angel nodded.

"What was that?" David soon asked.

"I have no idea," was Lailah's response, and everyone remained absolutely still, as if waiting for it to happen again.

It did, the pulsation stronger this time and it nearly knocked Freya off her feet, the witch being forced to grab the edge of a table for support so she could stay upright. David immediately reached for Eva, pushing the girl to stand behind him, as well as Ana who held the child close, the three backing away towards the hidden door.

"Somebody's trying to get through the barrier," Lailah explained, something that looked very much like fear in her otherwise steeled expression.

"No… it feels like something's trying to get into…" Freya began, but another pulsation made its way through the air, this time knocking Freya forward, her head hitting the table rather violently as if something had pushed her down.

Eva screamed her aunt's name in terror, the sound echoing through the silence as they watched the witch slowly stand more upright, her eyes closed and her dark hair somewhat in her face.

Lailah took one careful step toward the woman, calling out her name with gentle tones.

"Freya? Freya, are you all right?"

Freya didn't answer, let alone move, and Lailah took another step toward her, her hand reaching out to touch her.

"Freya?"

Before Lailah could touch the woman's arms, the witch's eyes snapped open, but her beautiful heterochromatic eyes were now pitch black and the ground beneath her feet began to pool with blood that seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Freya? Are you still in there?"

"Hello again, angel," Freya said, though the voice was not her own. But Lailah recognized it almost instantly.

"What do you want?" Lailah snapped.

"Just wanted to let you know – you have a visitor. The little gingersnap waiting for you in the usual spot. She has a message for you, from my master."

Ana gasped at the mention of Dracula and Freya slowly began to turn to look behind her to see where the noise had come from. Unwilling to risk the witch getting more of a view than she should, Lailah quickly thrust forth her hand, grabbing the woman by the throat and shouting the word "_vade_".

The Latin command forced Dracula's witch to eject herself from Freya's body as a bright light shot forth from the angel's hand and through Freya's mouth and eyes and she let out an ear-piercing scream.

When the light dissipated, Freya's legs gave out and the angel quickly caught her before she could hit the ground. The witch awoke shortly, reaching for her head as if the action would suppress the sharp throb in her skull and she groaned weakly.

"What happened?" she asked, finding herself on the floor and in Lailah's arms – something she had to confess to herself she had imagined once or twice, but never thought it would actually happen and certainly not in this context.

"Dracula's witch took a ride inside your head in an effort to deliver a message," Lailah explained as lightly as she could, though Freya noted the concern hidden away in the depths of her eyes. "She's gone now. David? Can you run over to the cathedral and see if Helena is there?"

"You think she's the messenger the witch was talking about?"

"I think Dracula may be on to us. Otherwise, he'd have no reason to reach out like this."

David looked over at Ana who sent him a pleading look, as if begging him to stay with her, but he sighed heavily and made his way toward the door.

"I'll be right back," and he was gone.

Ana and Lailah helped Freya to her feet and into a chair as Eva cleverly went over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of liquor and a couple of glasses, placing them in front of Freya who smiled in gratitude. After knocking back a shot, she looked up at Lailah who was standing beside the table, watching her carefully.

"I could feel her – could feel her trying to get in. It was like she trying to ram her way through a wall."

"Yes, that one doesn't play very nicely, does she?"

"How on earth did she get in? How did she find us?" Ana asked, deep concern furrowing her brow.

"I don't think she knows where we are exactly, but she knew how to find Freya and knew she was helping you, Ana," Lailah explained.

"God, I feel so violated right now," Freya exclaimed, covering her face as she dug the heel of her palms into her eyes, the pressure strangely soothing.

"Well, she's gone now," Ana said. "Though it's probably only a matter a time before she tries again."

As if on cue, Freya cried out in pain, though mostly in surprise, as Lailah pressed her finger to the back of her neck just briefly, the witch reaching behind to touch the spot on her skin that had burned from the angel's touch. What she found at the base of her neck felt like a strange mark where her smooth skin used to be.

"What the hell did you do?" she shouted, her skin tender to the touch.

"It's an angelic sigil. It'll keep you from being possessed in the future," Lailah explained absently, leaning against the edge of the table as she poured Freya another shot.

"Sheesh, you could have warned me," she said, accepting the peace offering and downing the drink in a single go. Eva moved to stand behind her and she pushed the woman's hair out of the way to get a better look. "How does it look, short stuff?"

"Kind of awesome, actually," Eva said. "Can I have one?"

Lailah couldn't help but laugh as Ana immediately began to protest, saying that no daughter of hers would be getting any tattoos or other markings on her person until she was old enough to have them. The debate between mother and daughter was short-lived, as David soon returned, entering through the back door with what appeared to be a cloaked woman behind him. When the door was shut and secured, the woman removed her long hood which had previously shrouded her face, and a mass of long, fiery red hair pulled back into an extravagant braid could be seen.

David helped to remove the newcomer's cloak, revealing a slender frame dressed in soft lilac. When the blindfold was removed, Helena's eyes took a moment to adjust to the light within the bar, and though she had been here dozens of times before, she glanced about as if it were the first time she had been in this setting. When she finally found Lailah, there was a visible expression of recognition that came over the mortal's face as the lost time and veiled memories came to the forefront of her mind and her eyes immediately filled with tears.

The human woman called out Lailah's name just as those tears began to tumble down her cheeks and she fell to the angel's feet.

"Forgive me, Lailah. Please, please forgive me," Helena pleaded pitifully. "I didn't want to tell them, but I had no choice. I wasn't strong enough…"

Lailah, though softened by the woman's evident state of distress, remained momentarily impassive as Freya slipped out of her seat and onto the floor beside Helena, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and holding her as she wept.

"Don't worry," the witch consoled, rubbing the woman's back affectionately in an effort to calm her. "You're among friends. You're safe here."

"Come sit down," Lailah urged her as the witch helped Dracula's blood girl to her feet before leading her over to one of the chairs at the table. David took his seat beside Ana, allowing Eva to sit on his lap as Lailah sat across from Freya who was doing her best to quiet Helena.

"Tell me what happened, Helena," Lailah encouraged as soon as the woman had calmed herself down. Freya offered her a shot to pacify her nerves and after she knocked back the alcohol, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly as Freya rested her hand over hers.

"I don't know how, but Verena found out about my monthly visits here," she began, her eyes cast down, unable to bring herself to look up at the angel. "She cornered me and questioned me about it. I did my best to feign ignorance, keep silent, but she…" Her voice trailed off as new tears began to burn in her eyes and Lailah watched as the witch sweetly rubbed the girl's arm encouragingly.

"What did she do?" Freya asked, but Helena couldn't bring herself to answer.

"You don't have to relive it if you don't want to," Lailah insisted gently, the comment bringing Helena's gaze to hers. The woman nodded, her eyes filled with gratitude as she continued her tale.

"After she got what she wanted from me, she healed me and left me to tell the master."

Ana visibly shuddered upon hearing Dracula's title, David pulling her close in response to her reactions so she felt safe.

"After she told him about what I had told her of our arrangement, I was summoned."

"Did he hurt you?" David asked.

Helena and Ana shook their heads simultaneously, Helena in response to the question and Ana as if she already knew the answer from experience.

"No," Helena said. "He was very kind and gentle, and even understanding. I told him I couldn't remember our visits, that I only knew that they had happened and that I had told you things about the witch and the layout of the palace and any other information I had picked up over the last few months."

"What did he say?" Lailah asked her.

"He said that Verena's punishment was punishment enough, that I had been manipulated by you and that he needed my help in order to get his family back," and Helena looked over at Ana who appeared almost as distraught as she was. "I can't remember what happened after that. All I know is I woke up this evening with Dracula and the witch in my room. The witch got into my head, trying to retrieve any useful information, but she left upset, which means whatever it was she was looking for, she couldn't find."

"Thank heavens for that," was Ana's response.

"And when it was just the Count and I in the room, he gave me this and told me I was to deliver it to you," and she revealed an envelope sealed by a red wax seal with the Count's insignia on it. On the front of the envelope was Lailah's name, written in a handsome calligraphic hand. Helena placed the envelope in the center of the table.

"What is it?" David asked.

"I don't know," Helena confessed. "But he said that it would require an answer from you, Lailah, and that I'm not to return until I have it." Lailah picked up the envelope almost cautiously, carefully examining it and the seal. "He said if I returned with a favorable reply, I would not receive any further punishment," Helena added, the caveat causing Lailah to look up at the woman with a curious expression.

After thoroughly examining the "gift", she broke the seal and pulled out its contents – a blank square of paper, undoubtedly for her reply; a larger piece of paper that had been folded several times over; and a gorgeous looking invitation, requesting Lailah's presence at a ball which was to take place at the palace the following evening in the honor of the anniversary of the Count's resurrection.

Lailah examined the invitation first, studying it with a look of suspicion and even a bit of sardonic amusement before placing it in the center of the table beside the envelope. She then picked up the folded piece of paper and found it to be a letter written in what she assumed was the Count's hand. He had beautiful penmanship that was simultaneously elegant, yet masculine, clearly written with care and a great deal of confidence. Lailah read it silently to herself at first before answering Freya's query about its contents by reading it a second time, this time aloud.

"It says, '_Lailah_,'" she began, pausing for just a moment to roll her eyes before continuing. "_'I hope this letter finds you well and that your stay in my fair city has been a comfortable one. My apologies for the inconvenience of being unable to leave, but I'm afraid you left me no choice. However, you have proven to be a most elusive opponent, and for that, I congratulate you. It is not often that I am bested by my enemies – let alone a woman – though upon our first meeting I could tell there would never be a dull moment with you. But alas, I have grown weary of this game of hide-and-seek and I pray you will not be affronted by or suspicious of the olive branch I offer you now. I wish to meet with you – in private of course – and with this letter, you will find enclosed an invitation to a small gathering I am holding tomorrow evening, in celebration of a resurrection your beloved heaven was unable to stop. I find it fitting that we meet on this date. I am not an unreasonable man, and I intend to discuss the possibility of a truce between us. I extend to you my solemn oath that no harm shall befall you or your charges in your absence and then when the time comes for you to depart, you shall do so with the peace of mind that no one will follow you. I give you my word. Please issue your reply with my lovely messenger before sending her on her way. I remain respectfully yours, et cetera_.'"

The room remained silent after Lailah finished reading the letter, the listeners digesting the Count's words. The sound of Lailah pushing her chair back and standing seemed to snap everyone out of their contemplative stupors as they watched her make her way over to the bar where she pulled out a glass and a bottle bourbon from the top shelf. She poured herself two fingers of whisky before knocking the glass back, downing it in a single breath to the surprise of everyone in attendance.

Lailah never drank.

Not once.

Yet here she was, pouring a second helping of bourbon into the glass, only she drank this one a bit slower, staring at the empty glass with an unreadable expression as the others waited for her to say something – anything. After taking a deep, cleansing breath, Lailah made her way back over to the table, where she grabbed a pen and wrote her response on the small blank piece of paper before folding it twice and handing it to Helena.

"Tell him I'll be there," she said a bit quickly, and before Helena could respond, Lailah reached out and pressed two fingers to the woman's forehead, the action rendering the woman unconscious and simultaneously removing her memories of the last half hour.

Freya opened her mouth to protest, but the look on Lailah's face silenced her before she could even get a word out.

"David, take Helena to the chapel and leave her there to wake up." He nodded in understanding, but said nothing. "I'll be gone until morning. Don't wait up for me," and with a flash of light and the sound of a single flutter of wings, she vanished into thin air.

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><p>The sky had begun to lighten as dawn approached, the city gradually growing quiet and still in response. Hidden away in the shadows of the bell tower stood Lailah, watching as Helena emerged from the cathedral just as a sleek, black car appeared in the otherwise empty street. The blood girl then climbed into to the car and was then carried away, leaving the block silent and empty once again.<p>

When she could no longer see the vehicle, Lailah removed herself from the high vantage point of the bell tower, taking the spiraling staircase down to the main chapel which was empty, save a single individual with a familiar face. She couldn't help but smile when she saw Raphael, seated in one of the pews.

"You rang?" he asked with a teasing grin, and then motioned for her to sit, but instead of sitting beside him, she sat in the pew in front of him, propping her legs up on the bench so she could better face him.

"Thank you for coming."

"Of course!" was his reply as he reached into his black mid-length trench coat. "And I come bearing gifts." He pulled out a glass bottle, the liquid contents a beautiful swirl of blue, silver, and light.

"You're a godsend, Raphael," she said as he handed her the bottle, laughing slightly at her comment while she drank the glowing fluid.

"In the literal sense," he said cheekily, leaning forward in his seat, resting his chin on his arms that were folded on the back of the pew she was seated in. "So tell me, why did you call? I was due for a visit later next week. Did you miss me?" he teased.

Normally Lailah would tease him right back, but her mind was awash with thoughts of uncertainty and concern and when she didn't laugh at his little joke, he became anxious, noting just how tired she looked.

"What is it?"

"His grace, the Count, wrote me a letter," she replied as lightly as she could while continuing to drink, the heavenly liquid restoring her vitality – though not fully, but it was enough that she felt significantly better than before and she sighed in relief.

"Dracula wrote you a letter?" Raphael repeated. "What, did you want to read it to me? Please tell me it outlines the conditions of his surrender."

"I wish. But no, he only wants to meet tomorrow evening to discuss the possibility of a truce."

Raphael sent her a hard look.

"You do realize that that has the word 'trap' written all over it, right?"

"Yes, I realize that, even though he's sworn that Eva and the others will be left alone and safe in my absence."

"You don't believe him, do you?"

"I don't want to, but I don't have much of a choice in the matter."

"Actually, you do have a choice. You can say, 'no' and not go."

"I told him I'd be there."

"Why?"

"I didn't see any other viable option available, Raphael," she explained, handing him the now empty bottle before allowing her posture to relax, her arm resting on the back of her seat, her hand mere inches from his. "I've spent ten years down here trying to find some way to break the curse and I've found absolutely nothing. The only one who can break that curse is Dracula's witch and she won't do it unless he tells her to – or if we find a way to neutralize her. The only way I can even begin to work on him to perhaps persuade him to let Eva and her mother go is if I play his game. To make matters worse, I'm assuming the council hasn't come any closer to making a decision?"

"I'm afraid not – they're willing to allow Michael to take the child, but Ana, David, and Freya will have to stay behind."

"I don't understand why this has to be so bloody difficult," Lailah grumbled agitatedly. "They do realize that I am running out of cards here and if Dracula finds out, we're _all_ screwed."

Raphael listened patiently, his eyes studying her as she spoke. He could see the concern in her expression, the exhaustion and the sense of helplessness. Though he didn't want to admit it, he knew she was right. They were running out of options and Lailah couldn't survive ten more years in the city and banned from heaven. Her powers would not fade completely, but her grace and her strength would, making her a viable prey of the Count if he ever found out.

"I don't want to meet with him, Raphael, but what choice do I have? We don't have any other options," she continued, covering her face with her hand, her arm continuing to rest on the back of the pew. "I have no desire to play this game with him, but I have to or everything I've done, everything I've sacrificed, will be for nothing. Eva has grown, but she's still a child, still impressionable. If he got his hands on her…" she couldn't even finish the thought.

Raphael reached forward and removed her hand from her face, holding that hand with both of his, his eyes full of understanding.

"I didn't mean to sound like I was judging you, Lailah, and I'm sorry if it came out that way. I'm just concerned. We all are. Dracula is a force to be reckoned with and if he can get to Gabriel like he did all those years ago, he can certainly get to the rest of us, given the opportunity. I'm just fearful because of your empathy. You feel things so deeply and are so determined to see the best in everything and everyone, I – I fear that if you take up a correspondence with the Count, he may take advantage of your compassion, like Azazeal did."

"Are you saying I can't handle him?"

"No, that's not what I meant. I just..." He exhaled heavily, searching for the right words. "I just wish you didn't have to do this by yourself," he said at last. "If the council hadn't declared it unlawful to interfere any more than we already have, I would be more than willing to help get Ana and the others out of the city, but I fear all of our hands are tied in this. I wish I could be of more use to you."

"You are of great use to me," she insisted, caressing the soft hair on his face, bringing his gaze towards hers. "You have always been there for me, Raphael, and I do not know what I would do without you or your constant friendship. I don't think I could have born the last ten years without your confidence and your support, and I pray I have not lost it now, not when I need you most."

There was an urgency in her eyes that he could not resist and his expression relaxed considerably as he smiled and squeezed her hand which he was still holding.

"Of course you have it. I trust you – I always have and I will continue to do so. Just promise me that you'll be careful."

"I will be careful," she swore to him, offering him an encouraging smile. "Thank you, Raphael. You don't know how much your trust means to me." He melted as he often did under her gaze, and he kissed her hand affectionately.

"I will always be here for you if you have need of me. I hope you know that you can reach out to me for anything."

"I do," she told him. "And I thank you for it."

"You do realize Michael won't be particularly pleased to hear this bit of news?"

"I don't care what Michael thinks right now. If it wasn't for his unflinching desire to uphold the laws of heaven, we wouldn't be down here right now."

"I'm fairly certain part of the blame lies with you and you _inability _to uphold the law, Lailah," he reminded her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Don't defend him."

"I'm not. I'll be the last to deny that Michael can be very proud and oftentimes he provides no bending of the rules, even for the greater good. But it is that resoluteness, that firmness of character that makes him the ideal leader for us. The rules are there for a reason, Lailah and when it comes to the rules, Michael doesn't like being questioned or having his authority challenged, even when it's Gabriel or myself doing the challenging. But for all his faults, he is no fool, Lailah."

She wanted to argue with him on that point but decided it was best to stay silent. She finally took note of the streams of sunlight shining through the broken and cracked stained glass of the abandoned church and she pulled her hand out of Raphael's hold reluctantly.

"I should go," she said upon standing. "I promised I'd be back when the sun rose.

"Then I'll let you go," he said, standing as well. They fell into step with one another as they walked up the aisle towards the front door, their hands close, but never touching.

When they arrived outside, the sun washed over them, causing Lailah to sigh contentedly as the warmth enveloped her. Oh, how she loved the sun, its light and its heat. How any creature could spend an eternity in the cold darkness was beyond comprehension for her, being a natural creature of the light. The bottle of living waters that Raphael had brought her from home had rejuvenated her body and soul, and she felt her spirits soar as its heavenly properties took effect in her. She turned to him and smiled.

"Thank you again for coming," she said. The smile he gave her warmed her down to her toes.

"Any time," was his reply, and with a gust of wind and the sound of wings, he vanished, leaving Lailah alone on the steps of the cathedral. She felt his absence immediately and felt her spirits fall just a fraction as she began to walk back to the bar, her thoughts eventually finding their way to her upcoming meeting with Dracula.

She wasn't entirely certain what to expect.

What would he say?

What would he do?

Though the devious part of her looked forward to her meeting with him, pleased that she had managed to best him in their most recent battle of wills, there was a part of her that almost dreaded what was to come. She may not have understood the particulars of what the future held, but there was a feeling in her gut that she could not shake – a feeling that the real challenge was only getting started.

Lailah had survived much in her many years of existence, but for the briefest of moments she wasn't entirely certain she'd make it out of _this_ particular battle unscathed.


	5. Chapter 5

**You know what I'm exceedingly grateful for? You guys. My lovely readers, my favoriters and followers, and my stunning reviewers. Your support and kindness means the world to me and that is why you get today's chapter right now instead of tomorrow. Yeah, I'm breaking all kinds of rules this week - but it's seriously been one of those weeks. Hell, it's been one of those years. But life moves on, and so must I. **

**A Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow yanks here in the US and a Happy Thursday to everyone else!**

**Many of you were asking when Dracula and Lailah's paths would cross again. Well, that time has come. I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you thought!**

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><p><em><strong>V<strong>_

Verena could still vividly recall the last evening she had looked at the reflection of her mortal self in a mirror – the night the Count had turned her. Though much of the time between that point and the present were a blur, the weeks leading up to that event were stained on her soul and carved in her brain like an old scar that had been deep and never healed properly.

She told herself she would never regret the action of that night, or the many poor choices she had made leading up to that point, but there was still a part of her, a tiny spark of light that had not been fully extinguished, its charcoal glow keeping the twinge of guilt in her unbeating heart alive.

It had been several centuries since that fateful evening in Agapia din Deal, a convent nestled on the edge of Bucovina, neighboring the region of Moldavia and Transylvania. She could still recall the extensive seduction she had undergone at the hands of the Count, his ruthlessness, his unforgiving and unmerciful behavior; it hadn't been enough just to seduce her. He had wanted to transform her. And that transformation had been excruciating – at least initially.

Now standing in front of an enormous enchanted mirror that allowed her to see her reflection, Verena examined herself closely, her eyes scanning over her figure, taking in every intricate detail as her hands smoothed out the slinky, form-fitting, lace gown she had had made just for this occasion. With her dark hair pulled back and adorned with a lavishly jeweled headpiece pinned to the left of her head, appearing almost like a crown, her deeply rouged lips curved in a self-satisfied smile.

It had been quite the challenge, keeping the Count's mostly-undivided attention for so many years, and though her undying beauty had always been an excellent attention grabber, she was clever enough and cunning enough – and perhaps even ruthless enough – to not only understand the game he played, but to play it just as well as he. She was obedient, but she knew when to be defiant and just how to do it, turning that insolence into an art.

Verena was a selfish being and though she held a great affection for her master, she had an unbreakable will that allowed her to do whatever pleased her and not just her king. Just as he had manipulated her all those years ago, she had become very good at playing his game, and the likes of Helena or even Ana were just tiny pawns on a much larger and complicated board.

Pleased at last with her appearance, Verena leaned in closer to the mirror to get a better look at her face. When she met the reflection of her own gaze, that arrogant smile of hers faded somewhat. There had been a time, long before she met the Count, when her eyes had been a beautiful golden brown, her irises almost like pools of honey. But now as held the stare of her reflection, she found her eyes to be a dark chocolate brown, almost black in color, the distinction between iris and pupil difficult to note when from a distance.

How far she had come, came the unnervingly self-conscious thought, and for the briefest of moments, Verena felt just a twinge of fear, looking at this stranger in the glass who looked like her, yet did not. But before she could give this change in her further consideration, a knock at her door interrupted the unpleasantness of her thoughts, and the mask of calm indifference and superiority was back in its place.

"It's open!" she called, expecting to see the Count at her door, but Helena was there instead, dressed in an aqua goddess gown, her luscious red hair pulled up into a crown braided chignon – the picture of timidity and innocence in comparison to the dark and deeply sensuous look Verena was donning. The vampire's eyes narrowed at the sight of the human who reeked of fear. "Well, what is it?"

"The master asked me to inform you that your presence is requested below, mistress," Helena answered, eyes to the ground.

"Look at me when you speak, traitorous wench," Verena hissed in response, pleased with the apprehension in the human's teal eyes. "Tell him I shall be down in just a moment. Perfection takes time."

"Yes, mistress," and Helena quickly curtsied and moved to turn around so she could leave before –

"Wait!" Verena called out, and she extended her hand slowly in a beckoning manner. "Come here, my sweet."

Helena's heart began to race violently in her chest. Although her last encounter with the female vampire hadn't left any visible scars on her person, the pain Verena had inflicted on her was something she wouldn't soon forget. She remained motionless in the doorway, too afraid to move.

"I said _come here_," Verena repeated with a bit more bite and Helena, unwilling to evoke the woman's wrath once again, obeyed. "Good girl." Helena shrunk under Verena's dark gaze, doing her best to remain absolutely still, although it was quite the task, as her hands were already trembling at her sides.

"My master is fond of you, is he not?" Verena inquired, the question confusing Helena. That sounded like a trap.

"He has not said, mistress."

"Oh, he doesn't need to," Verena replied with a flippant wave of her hand as she started to circle the girl. "The fact that you're still alive speaks volumes enough. Had any other of you blood slaves betrayed him the way you have they would have died on the spot. And yet, you still live."

"The master says he still has use for me," Helena explained.

"Yes, I'm sure he does. Tell me, Helena – do you know what I am?"

The woman looked up at the vampire with evident confusion.

"Mistress?"

"What am I?"

"You are his bride?" Helena offered, unsure of where Verena was going with this. Fortunately for her, that was the right answer.

"Yes, dear. I am his bride. And do you know what he is to me?"

"Your master?"

"Yes, but he is much more than that. He is my lover, my creator, and my husband. Do you know what husbands and wives do, Helena?"

The blank look she gave Verena seemed to amuse the vampire deeply.

"They share, pet."

Helena started to follow Verena's train of thought and she visibly shuddered when she felt Verena stand behind her.

"Your master, my husband, has expressed that no one is to feed from you, except for himself," and she ran a single finger along the lightly protruding jugular vein on Helena's throat. "You know, I've never taken kindly to men telling me what to do, unless it's in the bedroom." Her nail lengthened, its tip becoming sharp as she dragged it along Helena's skin. "I will feed from your vein, Helena, and unless you wish to have another session with me and my knife, you will do as I say."

Helena's heart was now pounding in her chest like a drum. She was afraid of Verena's wrath, but also deeply confused as to why the woman would blatantly disobey the one person whose temper was notoriously worse than her own, especially when it came to someone deliberately disregarding his oppressive sense of possessiveness.

But truth be told, Helena feared Verena more than she ever had reason to fear Dracula, so she pulled the gathered strap of her gown down and over her shoulder and moved her head to one side so her neck was completely exposed.

"Yes mistress."

She felt Verena grab her arms from behind as she was pulled uncomfortably close to her, the vampire's cold breath fanning her flesh.

"And if you so much as squirm and I get blood on my dress, I will skin you alive," the vampire hissed, waiting for Helena's nod of understanding before sinking her fangs into the girl's neck.

When she had had her fill of feeding off of and tormenting her master's new favorite toy, she exited the room in a dramatic sweep of gown and regal arrogance that strangely befitted her.

Verena arrived in the ballroom a short time later, the event already in full swing, the air filled with old-world music and charm as the guests, extravagantly dressed, conversed or danced with one another on the dance floor. As he usually did, the Count had exceeded himself with this "little" get-together.

Everything about the scene before Verena was perfection, from the beauty and grandeur of the setting to the provided food and entertainment (both things not exactly mutually exclusive) for those guests who did not wish to dance.

She felt the slightest twinge of dissatisfaction at the lengths he had gone to, to get everything "just right." He had only met the angel once and had only been in her presence for maybe five or ten minutes maximum – and yet with all of the effort to put on this evening, one would think he had known the woman his entire life.

Verena refused to be so easily replaced as the object of her master's attention, and she would see to it that this momentary obsession with this angel would be just that – _momentary_.

The bride soon located the Count who was making his rounds about the room, participating in idle conversation with some of his guests and she couldn't help but grin internally when the eyes of him and said guests not only fell, but lingered on her as she approached.

There were nods of humbled acknowledgment toward her as they departed, leaving her alone with the Count who looked her over approvingly. She bowed deeply to him with a meek subservience she didn't truly feel, pleased by the dark smile on his face.

"Master."

"Verena," and he offered her his hand, which she took, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor and into a waltz.

"You look exceptional this evening," he commented after they had danced in silence for several moments and she smiled, a hint of flirtatiousness in her eyes.

"Thank you, my lord. I had hoped everything would be to your liking."

"It is," was his reply, just the slightest husk to his voice.

"Has your guest of honor arrived yet?"

"Not yet, but I am confident she will be true to her word."

"Shows an abominable sort of conceit, making you wait, my lord."

"Yes, it is, but not nearly as brash as feeding from the vein of the girl I expressly forbade you to feed from," he noted. Though he hid his anger well, she could see it in the darkening of his eyes.

"What gave it away?"

"I could smell it on you," and his grip suddenly tightened around her hand as he roughly pulled her close to him suddenly. The action was meant to intimidate her, but it only seemed to please her as a smug grin began to tug at her lips. "I am very lenient with you, Verena. You know what happens when my wishes are disobeyed."

"Then you must punish me for my disobedience, my prince," she purred. "Later this evening, perhaps, when your business with the angel has concluded? Or would you prefer to correct me here and now on the dance floor for all your guests to see?" Her audacious response had the intended effect. The Count grinned wickedly and though his grip around her waist tightened, it was no longer in anger. He pressed his brow to hers, looking into her dark brown eyes.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I live to please you, my dark prince."

He chuckled low in response as their dancing and the air between them became lighter just as the music began to sweep into a grand crescendo.

"Oh Verena, my dear, what would I do without you?" he asked with a smile that was almost tender.

"I think your life would be terribly dull," she teased. "Who else is going to keep you on your toes?"

"Who indeed," he said with a sigh that had a hint of sadness to it and she sent him a look of genuine concern.

"Oh, my love, I know how much you have suffered these last years, but I confess, it has been nice to have you all to myself again, like it used to be."

"You never really gave me the chance to look anywhere else," he teased.

"What can I say? When I want something, I take it; and if I cannot live without it, I will do whatever necessary to keep it."

"Isn't that what I said to you, all those years ago in that little convent in Bucovina?"

"It was."

"If I recall correctly, you put up one hell of a fight. I can't remember the last time I had to work so hard for something. But, on the other hand, you also turned out to be my finest pupil."

"You were always the best teacher – so attentive. Sometimes I think you enjoyed observing me in action more than participating, though," she said and he picked up on her hidden meaning and smiled.

"Your transformation from a timid and virtuous nun into easily one of the most lethally seductive and morally unrestrained women I have ever come across is something I will never forget," he said with an unmistakable sense of pride. This praise pleased her immensely and he caught the faintest hint of a blush in her cheeks.

"You flatter me, my lord."

"No, Verena. I merely speak the truth. There are few things in my life that I can be certain of – you are one of those things. I'll say it again; I don't know what I'd do without you. Your loyalty, your insights, and your support have become invaluable to me, my dear. If only you had been around all those years ago."

"But I'm here now, my lord. I have no intention of ever leaving your side."

He smiled at the earnestness in her eyes, secretly pleased with how pliable she still was in his hands.

"Good."

They danced for some time, Verena infinitely delighted at the Count's approval, and the Count preoccupied with scanning the room as they moved about, his gaze seeking out his guest of honor. The wait was making him aggravated, the anticipation becoming too much to bear. He hid it well from his otherwise perceptive bride, his words having soothed the jealous streak in her character for the time being.

He was fully aware of the motive behind her actions – he had witnessed similar acts of defiance before. And, just as he had in the past, he masterfully silenced those feelings before they ever became a significant problem, allowing him peace and the opportunity to focus on the present.

Several dances later, the Count finally noticed Zane, who entered through one of the side doors and was making his way through the sea of guests towards his master with a look the vampire interpreted instantly.

The angel had arrived.

"Master, forgive me, but the angel. She has arrived," Zane explained as he approached, confirming the Count's suspicions. Dracula, rather indifferent to this news, nodded and took Verena's arm, encircling it around his own.

"You may show her in," he said.

A pair of servants who had been manning the main entrance to the room looked to Zane expectantly, waiting for the captain's snap of his fingers, which seemed to cause the room to go suddenly quiet as they all turned to see for whom the doors were opening.

The quiet chatter which had taken the place of the music and delightful conversations was now an unnervingly still silence as a hush flooded over the room in a wave, all eyes falling upon the newcomer.

Lailah entered the room with a distinctive air of confidence, each deliberately lingering step she took echoing off of the high-vaulted ceiling as her heels clicked against the polished marble. The sound almost resembled that of a ticking clock, as if to speak to the fact that even vampires, where she was concerned, were not truly immortal – only the angels were.

She seemed to simultaneously radiate a beautiful light and an alluring, underlying darkness, which was accentuated by the blackness of her dress. The angel held her head with a poise and grace that was just a twinge emphatic; as if she was perfectly aware the she was in the middle of a hornets nest. Yes, she was conscious of how precarious this situation was, but she would not be intimidated and had clearly come dressed for battle.

Although her actual entrance was rather unceremonious, there was something poignant, yet unidentifiable between Lailah and the Count as they locked eyes on one another. Verena, being the astute observer that she was, picked up on this, though she said nothing.

Dracula observed Lailah with a sense of guarded interest. When at last the angel stopped, standing before the Count, she stood there in silence for several lengthy seconds that quickly became uncomfortable for those in attendance, many beginning to feel as if their very presence was intruding on a moment between the angel and the Count that was perhaps meant to be private.

Verena was fine with the tension until she felt Dracula release her arm, a minor action that disconcerted her a great deal more than she had expected, as if the action marked the beginning of an irreversible drifting that was bound to occur between herself and her master, now that the angel was present.

Unwilling to be so easily dismissed, it was Verena who finally broke the silence.

"Is this the angel that has been causing so much trouble for you, my lord?" she asked with a contrived lightness in her voice. "And clearly she missed the part of the invitation that stated this was a ball. I fear you're underdressed for the occasion. A cocktail dress? Really?" When Verena received no response from the angel, she continued. "And I didn't know angels wore black. I had expected to see you dressed in white or something."

This seemed to be the musicians' cue to strike up the music again, and at the sound of the strings taking off into a Viennese waltz, the guests began talking again, easing the otherwise tense atmosphere in the room.

"A common misconception," Lailah replied in even, hard-to-read tones. "I only wear white when I mean to kill someone."

Verena refused to be intimidated.

"That seems a bit foolish. Won't the blood stain your clothing?"

"I am most efficient."

"I'm sure you are."

"Angels are not bound to a single color, Verena. The angels-clothed-in-white mythos comes from those instances when we shine with the full glory of our power, which would, alas, burn you to a crisp if I did so. And I do not wish to trespass on your master's hospitality by murdering his guests," and she looked over at the Count and caught the faintest hint of a smile curving his lips. "Black is a personal preference. I find it to be simultaneously inconspicuous and professional. As for me being underdressed for a ball, well then I fear that was purposeful as well. I came here on business, not to dance a waltz."

"I didn't know angels were so fashionably conscious," Verena replied, forcing out an amused chuckle.

"For a woman that once wore a habit, I find your uneducated assumptions strangely disappointing."

"I never cared much for being a nun."

"Because being the one and only bride of the Prince of Darkness is so much better," Lailah said with just the right amount of bite. "Oh, and how careless of me, I nearly forgot. Ana sends her regards." Lailah noted that she had hit a nerve and she could feel the corner of her mouth twitching as she struggled to suppress the smug grin she longed to wear.

"And how is the last Valerious?" Dracula asked, finally speaking up before Verena could lose her temper. "Enjoying her freedom?"

"She and her werewolf lover are infinitely happy. I'll be certain to extend your good wishes."

"I didn't offer any," he replied cordially, though just a twinge on edge. "And how is my daughter? You know – the one you stole?"

Lailah could suppress her smile not a moment longer and allowed it to curve her lips in an almost triumphant manner.

"Alive and well, your grace. She grows more beautiful and accomplished every day."

She had expected him to be put off by her comment, but he surprised her by smiling.

"I'm pleased to hear it."

"Are you really?" Lailah asked.

"Of course I am," he replied. "I've longed for children of my own flesh and blood for as long as I can remember. Although your influence on her is something I'm not entirely certain I approve of, I am pleased to hear that she is doing well. I see I've surprised you."

"I confess you have, Count," Lailah replied honestly.

"Well my dear, I hope that you will come to realize I am not the monster everyone has made me out to be. Not entirely, anyway," he added with a charming smile.

"I am open to hearing your side of it, if that is what you wish."

Now it was she who surprised him and that smile of his spread to his eyes.

"Shall we continue this conversation somewhere in private?" and he offered her his arm.

She graciously refused to take it, instead asking him to lead the way. It was clear she did not trust him, something he had foreseen, and he nodded to her in acquiescence. Before leaving, Dracula finally turned to face Verena, who suddenly seemed dreadfully unsure, and he kissed her cheek in an effort to reassure her. She offered him what smile she could muster and watched as he led Lailah off the dance floor, out of the ballroom, and then out of sight when he shut the door to the hall behind him.

The hallway outside of the ballroom was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the bright grandeur of the party with its golds and glistening jewels. The gallery by comparison was a different kind of splendor, the walls lined with dark mahogany paneling and matching crown-molding, with an equally handsome hardwood floor that was protected by an intricately designed burgundy Persian rug.

The Count led Lailah down the long hall before they finally reached their destination – an adequately sized sitting room with masculine leather seats situated around a roaring fire which was ablaze in a tall hearth.

Lailah entered the room first, unwittingly granting the Count the opportunity to watch her from behind and he smirked wickedly as he shut the door. She turned to face him, standing in the center of the room.

"Can I offer you a drink?" he inquired civilly.

"No, thank you. If you don't mind, I'd like to skip the formalities and just get to the point." He laughed silently, moving over to the small bar.

"I admire your direct approach," he said with his charming smile still on, "though perhaps you should strive to be less abrasive. You are, after all, a guest in my home, and I am just doing what I can to make you feel comfortable," and he motioned for her to take a seat on the sofa. When she finally sat down, he sat opposite her in a matching armchair, watching her over the top of his glass.

"I know that's what you'd like me to believe, Count, but we both know my comfort isn't nearly as important to you as you say. Forgive me if my bluntness offends you, but I am no fool. I am well aware that you have ulterior motives."

"I suppose the real question is what those ulterior motives are, then," he replied, finishing his drink and placing the empty glass on the table beside him. "Well then, I shall humor you and get directly to the point. I'd like to strike a bargain with you in exchange for Ana and my daughter."

"Then I fear your efforts to impress me have been in vain. Such an exchange, I fear, won't be happening," was her calm response.

"What if I asked for just Ana?" he suggested, seeing if she would budge. As anticipated, she did not.

"Also won't happen."

"And I suppose asking for just the child, then, would be out of the question?"

"Completely."

Dracula leaned back in his chair and grinned.

"I had expected as much," he confessed. "No matter – I've always enjoyed a challenge," and he folded his hands over his lap. "You know, I've scoured every book I could get my hands on in the last decade to find some semblance of information on you, and could find nothing. Just that you're the elusive angel of the night, though I confess, I have no idea what that title even means or why it's relevant to the prophecy. Does it mean you're fallen?"

"Not at all," she said. "My 'calling' – or my job, if you will – is two-fold. My first vocation, one which I'm not nearly as involved in as I used to be, is the overseeing of the delivering of children. A heavenly midwife, if you will, though I've had a host of angels assist me in that calling so I can focus my attentions on the more… historically significant individuals."

"You mean not all children are born equally?"

"Each individual is born with varying degrees of promise and all have the possibility of greatness. But most people never reach even a fraction of their potential in a lifetime."

"So you can gauge when a particular child is more likely to realize their potential, then?"

"To a certain extent. Some bloodlines are destined for greater accomplishments than others, and when I'm not serving in heaven's army, I influence the continuation of those bloodlines."

"So it's safe to assume that you're the reason the Valerious line has lasted as long as it has?"

"Yes – though you've made my job particularly difficult."

"My apologies."

"Oh, there's no hard feelings. I always find a way – it's what I do."

"I assume your methods are more influence rather than coercion?"

"Precisely. I've helped influence the preservation of the Valerious line all the way down to Ana."

"Were you present for the birth of each Valerious?"

"Yes."

"So I suppose that would explain why you were there the night my daughter was born."

"Yes, I suppose it would," she said, though she knew that Eva being a Valerious wasn't the only reason why she had been there that night.

"Ana and my daughter are very fortunate to have you then."

"Yes, they are."

The Count perceived the faintest hint of hubris in her voice and he mentally bookmarked that for future exploration.

"I wonder how the others get on without you, your 'host' of angels that help you in your endeavors, now that you're essentially stuck down here."

"They manage."

"Tell me, Lailah – is Ana really the last Valerious? Outside of my daughter, of course."

"I fear I'm not at liberty to say," was her careful response. "Though you really should know better. You always have had a weakness for Valerious women."

He laughed.

"You mean Verena? No, I never intended for that to last as long as it has. Her twin sister was the accidental means for my resurrection, as I'm sure you're aware. I had tracked down Verena for the purpose of revenge against what I believed to be the end of the Valerious line, but I was mistaken – as Ana's existence clearly illustrates."

There was a thoughtful silence that now lingered between the two of them for several moments as the Count continued to examine her from a distance.

"You know, it's so strange," he said, a faraway look in his eyes. "I feel like I've encountered you before. I've felt it since our first meeting that fateful evening ten years ago, but I haven't been able to place your face until now."

Lailah felt her body tense-up rather suddenly as her breath got lost in her throat.

"You were there, weren't you? You were there on the evening my wife gave birth to our first child. I remember now – the midwife in the village was busy and you were sent in her place."

The Count's recollection was not the one Lailah had been anticipating and she felt herself relax in relief of it.

"Yes, I was there," she confirmed, careful to keep her thoughtfully constructed wall safely intact without raising any suspicion. She thankfully managed to do so with success.

"Well, I must say, eternity has treated you extremely well," he said, again with that charming smile of his. "So safe-guarding the Valerious line is one of your jobs. What is the other?"

"I'm an advocate of sorts between heaven and lesser beings – mortals, supernatural creatures, and the like – as well as the fallen."

"You mean like fallen angels and demons?"

"Something to that effect, yes."

"So what do you do exactly? Do you mediate between the two or…?" he trailed off, hoping she'd finish his thought. She never did. So instead of sitting in that uncomfortable silence, he continued to pry. "What about hobbies? You angels have hobbies, right?"

"I don't really see how any of this is relevant," she said, changing the subject.

He took note of that.

"I'm just trying to get a better idea of who you are."

"Why does it matter?"

"You intrigue me, Lailah," he confessed. "You're a mystery and I have this insatiable urge to solve you."

"And you think that by figuring out my likes and dislikes you can gauge who I am?" she asked with a skeptically arched brow.

"Just humor me."

"Very well – I don't really have time for hobbies. My life is my work. But I suppose I enjoy music."

"Anything in particular? And if you express a partiality to that stuffy religious nonsense, I will be exceptionally disappointed."

Lailah chuckled, her smile reaching her eyes just slightly.

"Very well. I enjoy opera."

"Now _that_ is surprising," was his response and she caught him leaning forward slightly in his seat as if her answer had struck a chord with him. "I would have thought the opera to be too risqué for your kind? All of that inappropriate humor and the sexual undertones."

"Not all angels are prudish. We are capable of enjoying culture and the arts."

"Oh I know you can enjoy the things of this world – I just didn't think it was encouraged."

"It's not," she confessed. "Some believe that any involvement in or the taking of enjoyment out of even the most harmless pleasures humankind has to offer leads to a slippery slope of ruination and despair."

"You speak as if you know from experience."

"I've had my share of difficult lessons, Count. Each of us has. But I also believe that opposition is necessary for growth."

"And what about lovers?" he suddenly asked, her uncomfortable silence encouraging him to pry a little more when she shook her head in denial. "Really? None? A woman as beautiful as yourself must have had a lover at some point – a human, or another angel perhaps?"

"Now _this_ I know is irrelevant."

"Perhaps, but I'm still curious…" and his voice trailed off somewhat as his eyes ran along the curve of her collarbone, lingering on the swell of her breasts where the tasteful line in her cleavage could be seen and he found himself wondering how her flesh would feel beneath his fingertips, what her skin tasted like.

"I can tell when a woman has been untouched, and you, my dear, though you reek of purity and suppression… you have been touched. Most thoroughly, I might add. There's a darkness to you, a hunger you've managed to subdue for some time. You have the look of a woman in denial about you." His gaze burned her skin, made her feel naked and vulnerable, and though the way he undressed her with his eyes disgusted her, she was able to suppress the faint blush that nearly pinked her cheeks. "I admire your discipline," he added with the faintest hint of a knowing smile in his eyes.

"Although fornication is frowned upon, it is by no means forbidden, especially among lesser angels that have not yet learned how to control the natural urges of their flesh."

"But it is forbidden amongst the archangels," he clarified.

"Yes. They may copulate with their own kind, otherwise they risk falling – a punishment that takes decades, sometimes centuries of penance and sacrifice before their status is reinstated. Those who have fallen rarely make it back to their previous state."

"Gabriel did, I understand," Dracula commented, watching her carefully.

"Yes, he did – but it took him several centuries and many years of memory-loss to get there."

"I've often wondered what caused him to forget."

Her lack of a response indicated that she was not yet ready to discuss the private life of another archangel with the son of the devil, so he let it go, allowing a relatively uncomfortable silence to reign for several lengthy seconds.

"Tell me, Count," Lailah finally said, "you knew I would deny you any opportunity to get your hands on Ana and the child. You have nothing to offer me that could possibly tempt me to accept any such proposal. So why did you really invite me here this evening? I sincerely doubt it was to play a one-sided round of twenty questions."

Dracula had leaned back in his chair at this point, his fingers idly caressing the leather armrest of his seat as he continued to silently examine his guest, taking account for the things he had learned from their conversation. There was something strange about Lailah that he couldn't exactly put his finger on, something oddly familiar about her, as if he knew her from long ago, and yet he could not recall such a time.

The Count was able to remember almost every face he had ever come across in his long life. But there was something about her spirit, her soul, her very aura that was familiar to him – though the face that accompanied it was not and he could not for the life of him recall where or when or in what life their paths had crossed.

But he was certain they had.

He felt drawn to her in ways he could not articulate and did not completely understand, but the original plan he had entered with at the beginning of the evening was morphing, evolving into something else entirely and in a moment of madness, he decided to put his insane scheme into motion.

"I confess, I had originally hoped to convince you to give up Ana and the child – or at least Ana, but I see now that that was folly. I fear I have underestimated you, Lailah."

"Wouldn't be the first time," she couldn't help but say, and though that level of arrogance would have been irritating in anyone else, in her he found it deeply amusing.

"I'd like to make you a proposition," he said upon standing. "I understand that the curse on the city is a terrible inconvenience for angels like yourself that couldn't make it out in time, and I'd be willing to _consider_ having it lifted if you agreed to meet with me three evenings from now."

The look she gave him was exactly what he had anticipated and it made him grin – she looked completely and utterly dumbfounded. She noticed that her surprise appeared to please him, though she had no idea why as she responded with a, "Why on earth would you want to meet with me again?"

"Where would I even begin?" he said a bit dramatically, as if his reasons were so numerous, he hardly knew where to start. "You intrigue me, Lailah. That, and I find I've been starved of good company and I think if the situation was different, you and I could actually get along rather nicely. Call it selfishness, but I'd like to put it to the test, see if that hunch is true."

She still looked at him conspicuously, as if trusting him was the last thing on earth she would do, but he was prepared for that as well.

"Before you refuse," he quickly added, "I feel I should tell that you that if you acquiesce, I could, in time, warm up to the idea of having the curse lifted indefinitely, allowing you to safely remove Ana and my daughter from the city."

"So you're basically giving me the chance to convince you to give me what I want?"

"Essentially, yes."

"Then answer me this, Count – why would I bother coming in the first place if you aren't even going to guarantee me what I want?"

"Do you doubt me?"

"Completely!" she replied rather emphatically. "I wasn't born yesterday, Count Dracula. I can tell when a man has a hidden agenda and you have ulterior motives written all over you."

"I assure you, there are no strings attached to this proposed arrangement," he promised her with another one of his charming smiles. Dracula watched as her look of suspicion gradually faded into a more cautious acceptance. He could already guess her train of thought – here was an opportunity, the first in ten years that she had to get close to the one person who could end not only her captivity, but the captivity of those she had become personally responsible for.

Though she had every reason to be apprehensive of him, he knew that she wasn't fool enough to deny him. He was her only chance out of this city. She knew it and so did he. Dracula had managed to back Lailah into the corner of the board. He immediately noticed the look of surrender in her eyes when she released a long sigh.

"So what exactly will we be doing?" she asked him. "More pointless witty banter? Or perhaps another rousing round of twenty-questions?" His dark grin was her confirmation and she groaned internally, suppressing the need to roll her eyes.

"I'll make sure it's nothing too scandalous," he assured her.

"And what happens after? I'm certain you won't relinquish Ana and your daughter that easily."

He thought about it for a moment.

"That is a safe assumption. If you can't convince me the next time we meet, I'll simply give you another opportunity to do so – as many chances as you'd like, in fact."

He could tell she was still suspicious of him, as she should be, and he made his way over to her, standing in front of her as she continued to sit on the sofa.

"You have nothing to lose, my dear. And everything to gain," and he extended his hand for her to shake in agreement. She stared at his palm most intently, lost in her thoughts as the magnitude of the decision before her began to weigh down on her shoulders. If Michael didn't like her meeting with Dracula this evening, he was _not _going to be happy about this.

"I still have no reason to trust that you'll be true to your word, or that you and I will ever come to an agreement."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so eager to surrender just yet," he answered confidently. "If I didn't have guests to see to, I'd happily sit here in this room with you until we could come to some kind of understanding, but I fear I am unable to do so. Would you care for some time to at least consider my proposition?"

"Yes, I would" she said at last, looking away from his hand and up at him, standing carefully so they were face to face.

"Then you have it," was his reply and he bowed toward her. "If you do agree to my proposal, I'll expect you here in three days, after sundown. Unaccompanied, of course. No need to involve more people than necessary."

"Very well. Thank you for your generosity, Count," she said, though her gratitude was rather passionless and he smirked.

"The pleasure is mine, my dear. Until next we meet," and he offered her his hand to seal their agreement and she took it cautiously. His skin was like ice, his long, cold fingers wrapping around her hand in a way that made her uneasy – as if she had just shaken hands with the devil himself. He held her there for several lingering moments before finally releasing her, telling her that she was free to go and Zane would show her out.

As if on cue, his captain of the guard appeared at the door and like that, Lailah was being led down the hall. Just as Lailah was leaving, he spotted Verena walking down the same hall toward the sitting room and he watched as the angel and his bride exchanged perplexing glances before looking away from one another.

Before Verena could reach his end of the hall, he reentered the room, sitting once more in his chair, staring at the spot Lailah had sat in, mentally replaying their entire encounter over again in his head to make sure he hadn't overlooked anything as his bride silently entered the room and shut the door behind her, obediently waiting for her master's invitation to speak. It didn't come as quickly as she had hoped, for he was still staring at the sofa with an expression she could not read.

Though on the surface the Count was calm and still, on the inside he was in a hundred different places at once, part of him quickly filing through his memories, trying to recall why this woman felt so familiar to him. He had met his fair share of stunning women in the past, and though Lailah wasn't the most beautiful he had come across, there was something about her that affected him deeply.

At first he thought it was her eyes, those deep, royal blue pools that radiated both light and an underlying darkness. But the more he thought about it, he quickly realized that though her beauty left his body craving her, there was something about her spirit that was driving him mad, as if her very essence was a word on the tip of his tongue, and he couldn't manage to spit it out.

But there was something else about her too – that underlying darkness he saw in her intrigued him deeply. He wanted to exploit it, to bring it out, to nurture it even, mostly because he was curious to see just what she was capable of. He had never seduced an angel before and just the prospect of doing so gave him more pleasure than he had felt in a long, _long_ time. Dracula could hardly wait to get started.

He suddenly remembered that Verena was still in the room with him and he looked over at her to find that though she was silent and dutifully awaiting his instruction, there was evident worry and even a hint of jealousy in her dark brown eyes that, for the first time in their entire relationship, irritated him. He extended his hand to her as he continued to sit, beckoning her, and she came to his side immediately, falling to her knees before him.

"Well?" she asked.

"The game has changed," he said, caressing the side of her face thoughtfully.

"She would not budge?"

"No, she would not. But that doesn't matter now," he assured her.

"It doesn't?" she asked with a puzzled expression.

"I realized something this evening, Verena. Something I should have realized a long time ago."

"And what is that, my lord?" she asked, taking his hand in both of hers and kissing it adoringly.

"The best way to neutralize an opponent is to make them your ally," he explained, removing his hand from hers so his fingers could caress down her throat and back up again, lifting her chin so he could look better into her eyes.

"What do you plan to do?" she asked him, her voice breathless and low as he continued to stroke the long column of her neck before tracing over her collar and over the soft swells of her breasts.

"I'm going to do with her what I did with you, my pet. I'm going to break her – slowly, so she doesn't realize I'm doing it. And then I'll do what I always do. I will take what is mine. But before I can do that, however, I need some kind of advantage over her. She's been had, this one – I could see it in her eyes."

Verena, deeply aroused by his gentle and ever-teasing ministrations, began to purr at his touch and she ran her hands up his thighs as she leaned in, her body between his legs.

"I may know of someone who could shed some light on that subject."

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><p><strong>DUN DUN DUUUUUUNNN! <strong>

**Well my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope you'll take the time to review to let me know what you thought! If you do, I'll love you forever and ever! **

**Until next time! **

**Your devoted authoress,**  
><strong>- T<strong>

**P.S. The muse has requested that I taunt you with a blurb of my recent edits of **_Ink on a Page _**(which I'm presently up to my eyeballs in). Personally, I think doing such a thing would be rather cruel, teasing you all with something you presently cannot have, but his nibs is a sadistic bastard and alas, I too am curious to see how you'll react, so... **

**OH! And a disclaimer - I'm still combing my way through all of that drudgery, so if I missed anything or made any errors, please let me know! Enjoy the teaser and please don't forget to REVIEW! :) **

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><p>"Don't listen to him," Velkan instructed her. "His words are poisonous lies."<p>

Dracula laughed as he materialized onto the ceiling now, walking about on the large chandelier up above, his hand gripping the chain so he could lean over a bit.

"Lies, Velkan? What? Don't try to tell me you wouldn't like to help your charming little paramour out of her wet dress? Velkan, your _highness_… I could smell your lust out in the hallway."

"That is enough," the prince snapped, more embarrassed than angry.

"There's no need to be ashamed. She is a rather appealing little thing, isn't she? I wonder what she tastes like…" and the vampire inhaled deeply, his eyes beginning to glow that vibrant electric blue. "She smells delicious," he said, purring like a large feline. "And I do believe she likes you, little prince. Though I have no idea why."

The Count allowed gravity to take hold of him and he plummeted to the floor, landing with unearthly grace before the two of them before placing his hands casually behind his back.

Velkan gripped the hilt of his sword in a warning manner.

"What do you want, Dracula?"

"Such hostility, your grace. There's no need for that. I have not come here to harm you or your delectable guest. Such a woman of high importance is vital in the game you and I play," he replied, a husky look in his eyes as he stared directly at Hera. "A pity she must be a neutral piece."

"She has nothing to do with our battle, Count," Velkan shot bravely, desperate to keep Hera safe from this monster. "Any quarrel you have is with me and my family, nothing more."

Dracula tsked at the prince in a playful manner.

"Oh hush, you imbecile. I'm not here for you." The vampire's attention then returned to that of Hera. "I'm here for Miss Garret," he hummed. "I'd like to have a word with her."

...

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><p><strong>The Muse: You're such a tease.<br>**

**Your Authoress: If I am, it's your own damn fault. You're a bad influence. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Forgive any errors I may have overlooked and please review!**

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><p><em><strong>VI<strong>_

Lailah was oblivious to her surroundings as she wandered the busy streets of the city, invisible to all that were near her. She was lost in the vast ocean of her own thoughts, replaying her encounter with Dracula in her mind – the things he had asked her, the ways he had looked at her, the words he had said. Lailah wished she could ignore the unpleasant queasiness in her stomach as her anxiety regarding his proposition started to get the better of her. She hadn't anticipated the turn of events and where in any other situation she would have been full of confidence, she was suddenly terribly unsure of herself.

She walked for what felt like ages, uncertain of where her feet were taking her until she finally looked up to take in her present location. Lailah was in a more quiet part of town now, a street lined with quaint little townhomes that were attached to one another, outlining each curve and turn the street took. Where she had stopped was right in front of a place that, had she been consciously aware of where she headed, she would have avoided altogether. Yet there she was, in front of a house she hadn't seen in many years.

It was the current residence of the fallen archangel, Turiel.

She could feel the fallen angel's presence from outside on the street where she stood, the aura familiar, yet not as inviting as it should have been. She knew what she was about to do wasn't the best idea, but she needed someone to talk to, and who better than the very man who had been responsible for her conception.

Lailah opened the front gate and made her way up the small path to the front steps that led to the door, which opened before she could even knock, as though she had been expected. The face that greeted her left her with a mix of conflicting emotions – relief, anxiety, affection, and bitter disappointment.

"Lailah."

He hadn't aged a single day since she had seen him last. In fact, he was the same as he ever was – a good five or six inches taller than she, with his dark brown hair naturally brushed a bit to the side from a life-long habit of sweeping the longer locks out of his face with his hand; his whiskers were still short and neatly groomed, and with his pointed nose and strong jaw, he looked every part the archangel.

Except for his eyes.

His eyes, which Lailah had once heard were a remarkable ocean blue color were now a dark navy with a ring of deep red around the pupil – the mark of the fallen. Though young and strong in appearance, his eyes looked weary, ancient even, as though a world of worry and regret weighed on his soul. But he smiled upon seeing her, as he often did when their paths crossed.

"Hello, Father," she said, finding it a tad difficult to get the word out, but when she did, it felt pleasantly relieving. "May I come in?"

"Of course," and he opened the door more fully and stepped out of the way. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I happened to be in the neighborhood and I thought," she began, but when she looked up at him, her voice faded and he finally took note of the concern in her eyes.

"Come with me to the kitchen. I was just frying some pickle chips. Would you like some?"

"Would I ever," she said with a heavy sigh and the faintest hint of a smile and she followed him into the handsome, but small kitchen in the back of the house. The smell of garlic, vinegar, and oil-fried batter filled her nostrils, making her surprisingly at ease as she took a seat on one of the barstools beside the island as Turiel made his way over to the stove.

She had never been able to explain the bizarreness of her favorite comfort food, but it was clearly a taste she had picked up from her father.

"So how has this curse on the city been treating you?" she asked idly, the plop and sizzling sounds of the batter-fried pickles cooking in the hot oil strangely reassuring.

"Tolerable enough," he said, his eyes watching as the fried chips began to turn a light golden brown color. "Though I miss my yearly pilgrimage to the north country. The grave is probably lost in the snow at this point. If I do ever manage to get back up there, it'll be quite the struggle finding her again." She could hear the bittersweet sorrow in his voice as he spoke. "But other than that, I'm fine, I suppose," he assured her with a smile. "And how is your time down here? Gabriel visited me several months ago, told me what was going on. How is the child doing? Her name is Eva, isn't it?"

"I didn't realize Gabriel had been in town. How is he?"

"He only stopped by for a couple of hours to visit. He was doing well, last we spoke – trying to stay out of this whole Dracula mess."

"I'm glad one of us is."

That earned her a peculiar look from Turiel who, instead of prying, however, let it go.

"Is Raphael still checking in on you? You're looking a little dim."

"He is, and I'm grateful for it. No, if I'm looking dim to you, it's because of the visit I just had."

"With Raphael?"

"No… with Vl-" but she stopped herself quickly before saying his true name and took a deep breath, correcting herself, "with Dracula."

She watched her father closely after saying the name and his reaction was just as she had predicted. He had been removing the finished pickles from the pot of hot oil, letting the excess drip away before putting the dried and crispy chips on a plate. But the name had caused him to stop what he was doing for just a moment and she could feel the disapproval radiating off of him without even having to look at his expression. After the fried pickles had been arranged on the plate with a small dish of homemade ranch for dipping, he finally looked at her, sliding the plate across the island counter so it was in front of her and he took a seat in the remaining barstool.

"What did he want?"

"To talk, and to see if I'd be willing to give him Ana and Eva in exchange for the removal of the curse," she began, dipping one of the fried pickles into the ranch.

"Which I'm assuming you refused?" he inquired, following suit.

"Yes."

"How did he take it?"

"He wasn't surprised by my refusal. Actually, it was as if he expected it. I couldn't help but feel like he had called me there for some other unknown reason."

"What reason do you think that is?"

"I can't be sure. I'll have to see if I can pry it out of him when I see him again."

Turiel coughed rather violently all of a sudden as if he had choked on the food in his mouth and when the coughing fit had ceased, he looked over at his daughter incredulously.

"I'm sorry – what?"

"He's asked to see me again, says he'll give me as many opportunities as I need to convince him to let Ana and Eva go. He's open to it, he just wants to know why he should do it. I just have to gain his trust, come up with a convincing argument, and then…"

"I'm sorry, but have you completely forgotten who you're dealing with?" he asked, raising his voice a little. "Lailah, this is Dracula. _Vladislaus _Dracula."

"I know who he is."

"Then what in the name of heaven possessed you to agree to his terms?"

"I haven't agreed to anything!"

"Yes you have! You've agreed to meet with him again. Can you even comprehend how dangerous that is?"

"I think I can handle one man, Father."

"He is not just _some_ man, Lailah, and you know that!"

The level of his voice had begun to increase and it should have made Lailah nervous, but she wasn't the kind of woman to back down simply because someone had started shouting at her.

"Yes, I do know that. I know who he is and what he is capable of – better than anyone! I'm not an idiot. I am aware of the risks."

"Why are you doing this, Lailah? Why did you agree to meet with him, really? You know he will not give you what you seek – he will never let Ana and the child go. He only wants the chance to manipulate you and you're giving it to him. Why?"

Lailah did not answer, but he could see the truth in her eyes and he smacked his hand on the counter in frustration.

"Damn it, Lailah!"

"I have to try," she insisted.

"That man is not worth it. He is too far gone, past the point of any hope for redemption. Don't throw your life away for someone who cannot be saved!"

"I'm not going to throw my one opportunity away just because you're afraid I'll get too emotionally involved in this."

"You _will _get too emotionally involved," he insisted. "You've been emotionally involved ever since you agreed to protect and preserve the Valerious bloodline! Why must you insist on doing this to yourself, Lailah? Just let it go!"

"Oh, that's rich coming from the man who refuses to apologize for the one time he broke the rules!" she snapped back. "It's been almost three-thousand years! Why can't _you _let _her_ go?"

"Because I _will not_ apologize for falling in love with your mother!" he shouted. "I've given Michael and the council everything they've asked for. I've paid my dues for my sins, Lailah, and then some, but I refuse to go against my conscience and lie by saying I'm sorry for something that I will never be sorry for!" Turiel was shaking with emotion, his hands clenched in tight balls as he struggled to regain his composure. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, gripping the edge of the counter with his hand as he felt the anger slowly ebb away. "I loved your mother, Lailah. Astrid was the greatest thing that ever happened to me, second only to you, and I cannot… I," and he paused, his voice breaking with emotion. "I can't do it. Not for the council, not for Michael or Gabriel. Not even for you."

Lailah's features softened with sympathy as she reached for her father's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Then please don't expect the same from me," she said gently. "You once told me that if ever I learned anything from you and your mistakes, it is that I should never go against what I feel to be right. I have done my best to live by that rule, Father, no matter the cost to myself – so long as I can help another. Please don't ask me to go against what my heart and my gut are telling me must be done. I can bear the council's wrath and disappointment. Don't make me bear yours as well."

Turiel's sad eyes had begun to fill with tears, but he quickly blinked them away and managed a smile, squeezing Lailah's hand in return as he nodded.

"Very well."

An unnerving quiet lingered between them for several long moments as they sat there in the still of the evening, until Turiel spoke at last.

"Have you told Raphael, yet?"

She removed her hand from his and shook her head.

"No, I haven't told anyone about my meeting with Dracula again. No one but you."

Turiel gave her a hard look, his brow furrowed in disapproval.

"You know very well that's not what I was referring to."

Lailah never did answer his question, but her silence was response enough. She ended up leaving a short time later and she found herself wandering the streets of the city again, invisible to all passersby until they gradually became fewer and fewer as she neared the Devil's District, nearing "home." It was around three in the morning at this point.

Most of the city had either gone to sleep or was getting ready to, leaving the streets nice and quiet, the crescent moon still high up in the night sky. Lailah stood in the middle of the empty street for several extended moments, just taking in the comforting silence and stillness of her surroundings until she noticed the faintest sound of singing. It was coming from the Istovar chapel on the corner at the end of the block and she found herself heading almost instinctively in the direction of what she recognized to be Tallis' s_pem in alium_.

The gorgeous forty-part motet seemed like a distant heavenly call, a beacon of light in an otherwise dark and Godless world, coming from the disused and rundown cathedral, and she could not resist its pull. The music grew louder as she neared the ancient structure, the massive cathedral having become more and more overrun by the trees, shrubbery, and foliage that were in the process of reclaiming the church for the earth.

Yet, despite this, she had found over the years that the building still served as a refuge for the hopeful, the humble, and the penitent, and though she could not see them, she could feel their spirits and their music filled her and rejuvenated her in ways she had not been aware she had needed. Unlike the usual darkness the cathedral was often in, the old candelabras had been lit, providing a soft light to the place and she sat down in one of the hard pews in the back, still in shadow so she could listen to the singers without disturbing them.

Lailah was there for some indiscernible amount of time, silent and still, allowing the music and the holy praises to heaven to soak into her skin, bringing her a great deal of peace. She could feel the tension in her body slowly ebbing away as her countenance became serene, her eyes closing, affording her the opportunity to imagine herself anywhere but here in this city – perhaps in the mountains somewhere, in a lush forest, or even in paradisaical glory.

After some time in solitude, she noticed a tingle shoot up her spine and a strong but pleasant shiver ran over her as she recognized the arrival of a familiar presence. She opened her eyes and turned to see Raphael standing in the aisle beside her, his warm gaze falling on her as he smiled.

"I could hear the music and I thought I'd find you in here listening," he said as Lailah scooted over so he could take a seat beside her, which he did. "I must confess, I'm a bit surprised to find you willingly in a man-made structure of worship again," he added with just a hint of teasing in his voice. She smiled.

"Nature has always been my ideal church, my place of worship. I've preferred the cathedrals of mountains and endless woods for as long as I can remember – in comparison to the hollow and cold walls built by men who so often lose sight of what is most important." He noticed the faint smile she had been wearing grow somewhat. "Doesn't mean I can't enjoy the music," she added and he chuckled quietly.

"I guess man-made monuments will have to do until we get you out of here," he replied, and she felt his arm rest on the back of the pew behind her. "So I was going to ask you how your visit with Count Dracula went, but I think it's safe to assume that things didn't exactly go over so well, considering the fact that you're in a church and you only tend to attend of your own volition when you need guidance," he said knowingly and the hint of sadness he had noticed in her eyes earlier became more profound as she allowed the mask to slip, confirming his suspicions.

"Well, it could have been worse," she started out and he made an effort to get more comfortable in the wooden seat as if he was trying to brace himself.

"That's admiringly optimistic of you."

"He refused my request to have his witch break the curse."

"As was expected…"

"He tried to talk me into giving him Ana and the child."

"Saw that one coming, too."

"And then he asked me a bunch of personal questions and told me he wanted to meet with me again so I could have another chance to convince him to let Ana and Eva go."

Raphael opened his mouth to release another snarky comment, but he stopped suddenly and sent her a mildly bewildered look.

"I'm sorry?"

"He wants to meet with me again. In three days."

"Whatever for?"

"He probably thinks he can break me down after a while, perhaps to give up Ana and Eva."

"That's rather obvious and unimaginative of him. Are you certain that's his plan?"

"What else could it be? It's not like I have anything else that he wants."

"Are you sure about that?"

Lailah looked over at him and noticed the genuine concern in his eyes.

"What, you think he has something else in mind?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Raphael replied. "He's not a fool, Lailah. Despite his many vices and overall lack of morality and integrity, he's a rather brilliant man. Actually, considering how obvious the surface plan is, he's probably expecting your suspicions and that knowledge will only make him more dangerous."

"I can handle him," she answered firmly, though hearing Raphael's doubts, just after hearing her father's, wasn't doing much for her confidence right about now.

"Oh, I'm sure you can, but it isn't going to be easy."

"What makes you say that?"

"Now that he has a better idea of who he's dealing with, he's going to try to weed out and exploit any weaknesses you have – your empathy for others, for starters. Your gift to see traces of light where others see darkness is rare and wonderful, Lailah, but the game you're about to enter into with him is a dangerous one with a great amount of risk. If he manages to take advantage of your natural empathy, he can manipulate you into thinking he's not nearly as bad as he is and prolonged exposure to him could result in the deterioration of your strength and maybe even your resolve against him. But if you succeed, you can not only get close to him, but to the witch. Perhaps even eliminate her or at least neutralize her so the curse can be lifted, which will allow you to free not only Ana, Eva, and David, but you could also save Dracula himself in the process. I know you, Lailah. You wouldn't have agreed to meet with him if you didn't think it was the only option you had. I just hope you understand how precarious this is."

"I know."

"And I know you know, but I wouldn't be your friend if I didn't state the obvious now and again," he insisted, turning to face her. "I know you're doing what you think is right, and I know that you are aware of the risks. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Lailah reached for his hand and held it in hers.

"And I won't," she assured him. "I am fully aware of what is at stake here, more so than anyone else. I don't like this any more than you do, but it must be done. I got Ana and Eva and the rest of them into this mess, it is my duty to get them out of it. Besides, if I manage to succeed, the council won't be able to deny me archangel status any longer – even if it's just 2nd or 3rd class."

"You'd be worthy of it now if you'd stop purposefully butting heads with authority all the time," he said with a laugh.

"It's for their own good. Michael needs more opposition in his life and so do those bureaucrats. Besides, to them, I'll always be just another nephilim, one that really should just resign herself to mediocrity."

"It has been an age since anyone viewed you in such an uncharitable light," he insisted, and she felt him squeeze her hand as if to emphasize his point. "You have proven your qualities time and time again, Lailah. If anyone can take on the son of the devil, it's you."

Lailah smiled, truly touched by his vote of confidence.

"Raphael, your faith in me means more than you could ever know."

He took her hand and held it between both of his, thoughtfully caressing her knuckles with his thumbs, unable to meet her gaze.

"Lailah, I will always support and trust you," he said, his eyes finding hers. "Just promise me one thing?"

"Anything."

"Promise me that no matter what happens, with Dracula, with any of this – promise me that you will always tell me the truth – the whole of it – no matter how unpleasant it may be. That if you need help, you'll ask for it."

Lailah brought his hands to her lips and she kissed them affectionately.

"I promise."

A look of relief softened the deep concern that had filled his eyes and she was pleased to have been the cause of such change. She allowed him to wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her close as they continued to sit in the pew, listening to the almost ethereal music and she leaned into him, feeling more at peace with his arm wrapped around her than she had that entire evening.

* * *

><p>It had been over ten years since the bar had had this many people in it. In a strange way, it was like a reunion, though more awkward and less friendly as far as reunions go. Raphael had accompanied Lailah back to the bar to find Michael, Ramiel, and even the elusive Gabriel Van Helsing waiting for them, David, Ana, Freya, and Eva seated at one of the tables, all eyes anxiously on Lailah when she entered through the backdoor, who had expected her charges to be asleep at this hour.<p>

The tension in the room was thick and relatively unpleasant - a gift Michael possessed. The angels had gathered clearly to hear what had happened with her and Dracula earlier that evening and all of the comfort and confidence she had managed to scrounge up during her conversation with Raphael was rapidly disappearing the longer she stood in the line of Michael's gaze. She could already feel the disapproval radiating off of him and the guilt she felt annoyed her more than anything else.

Lailah excused herself, wanting to change out of her fine dress and into something more comfortable and less risqué, despite the jacket she wore over it. She was back within five minutes and found the company to be just as silent as they were when she had left them, only this time, they were all seated around the table, except for the angels, who stood when she reentered the room.

She took note of Van Helsing on the far end of the table and the two smiled at one another, but before she could greet him properly, Michael motioned for the single empty chair at the table, situated between Ana, who had Eva on her lap, and Raphael.

"Lailah, if you would please take a seat, we'd like to get started."

The female angel nodded and did as she was told, allowing Raphael to hold her seat and the moment she was situated, the angels following suit.

The tension in the room seemed to have worsen and Lailah had to repress the urge to crack a joke in an effort to lighten the air. So instead, she replied,

"To what do I owe the pleasure of not just one archangel, but four?"

"We've come to hear about your meeting with Count Dracula this evening," Gabriel explained.

"I've told Raphael what has transpired and what was discussed. Is it really necessary to have the trio," and she motioned between Raphael, Gabriel, and Michael, "down here? Seems a bit foolish to me. You could draw unwanted attention."

"You've already drawn attention to yourself," Michael explained calmly. "I understand you've told Raphael what has happened, but I'd like to hear it for myself in your own words, if you please."

"Yes, of course," she replied penitently, folding her hands in her lap before squaring her shoulders and raising her chin a little. She had noticed out of the corner of her eye how attentively Eva has watching her – perhaps the child could learn how to hold her own against bullies from this experience, Lailah mused to herself. "Where would you like me to begin?"

"Raphael has already informed us of how Dracula reached out to you. We'd like to hear about your meeting this evening."

So she told them what had transpired in as plain a language as she could, careful to not divulge the specifics of the conversation she and the Count had had – only generalities that wouldn't get her into trouble. She then explained the Count's intention to meet with her again, perhaps multiple times in the foreseeable future, and how she all but agreed to do so. Up until that point, all had listened silently to her every word. But it was here that she was finally interrupted.

"So you've agreed to meet with him again?" Gabriel clarified.

"Not explicitly, but yes. I do plan to meet with him again."

"Forgive me if I sound a bit harsh, Lailah, but that is extremely unwise."

"I understand your concerns, but I assure you, the situation is under control," she said, watching for Michael's reaction out of the corner of her eye. "I know this isn't an ideal situation, but unfortunately, it's the only viable solution that's presented itself in the last ten years. I understand the risks and I am willing to take them."

"There must be another way," Gabriel insisted, Ramiel agreeing with him.

"There isn't. If he wants to meet with me and try to talk me into giving up Ana and Eva, he's got another thing coming," Lailah answered firmly.

"But what if he is using the time not to convince you, but to distract you?" Ana chimed in, albeit a bit timidly. "Vlad is notorious for bluffing and double-bluffing. He could make it seem like he's trying to manipulate you into giving us up, when in reality he could only be distracting you from something else, something bigger."

"The vampire has a point," Michael finally said.

"We appreciate all you've done for us, Lailah, and all you continue to sacrifice, but please – take it from someone who knows. You should really reconsider. Dracula doesn't play games for fun – he plays for keeps, and this is a dangerous dance you're about to undertake with him."

"I understand that, but again, I reiterate, we don't have any other options. The council has already stated multiple times that Eva can leave the city, but the rest of you will be left behind and I cannot abide by that. I would never dream of leaving you all here at the mercy of Dracula, even though the longer we stay, the weaker I become. I can't protect you and Eva forever under these conditions. And until the council decides to see reason, our best bet at getting out of the city and as far away from the Count as possible is to get close to him and either take out the witch or neutralize him directly so her link to that power is gone."

"And if you don't succeed?" Michael asked.

"Then Ana and Eva will be lost to the Count – which is exactly what will happen if we sit here and do nothing. The only difference is it'll happen a lot sooner." That seemed to put an end to the arguing as they sat there and mulled over her words in silence, digesting their reality a bit before Lailah continued. "Look, I get it – Dracula is a force to be reckoned with and if we don't play our cards right, we're all going to feel the repercussions of it. I'm beginning to think you all don't trust me."

"That's not it at all," Gabriel insisted. "I know I speak for at least myself when I say that it's not that I don't have faith in you, I'm just not entirely sure you understand what you're about to get yourself into. I know when I originally crossed paths with him all those years ago, I had not been prepared for the challenges I would face."

Lailah had known about Gabriel's fall and how the aftermath and the reason it took so long for him to reach absolution somehow involved Dracula, but she had never learned the details, and now more than ever did she wish he'd share them. But if her meeting with her father earlier this evening was any indicator, pressing the point was not wise, so she remained silent on that subject.

"You will have to be constantly on your guard, Lailah," Ana added. "Doubt everything he says, no matter how sincere it sounds or feels. They call him the son of the devil for a reason."

"My father used to say that the devil never comes dressed in a red cape with pointy horns. He comes as everything you've ever wanted," Freya said softly, reciting the old proverb in such a solemn tone, it left the air feeling cooler than before.

"And the devil always cheats," Gabriel added.

Lailah looked over at Michael who had been rather quiet during this whole ordeal. Though she had been astonished at first that Gabriel had been invited to this little get together, his presence made sense now, as it was clear that he would be the greatest advocate against Lailah's association with Dracula due to his own personal experience, and Raphael would be the other end of the spectrum – total trust and support. It was rare for Michael to be the tie-breaker in any given situation, as that was usually Raphael's position, yet here he was, listening quietly to both sides of the argument.

After visibly weighing the options over in his mind, Michael's eyes rested on Lailah for several long moments. She could see in his gaze the hesitancy, the evident concern, the burden of knowing more regarding the situation than he let on. Lailah took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders in an effort to appear more firm and controlled, as if bracing herself for what she thought was the inevitable, but upon doing this, she noted a flash of something else in his expression – faith.

It was clear the ultimate decision would be up to Michael and Lailah braced herself for disappointment.

But he surprised her.

"Although I can understand the reservations had by several of you, I find myself agreeing with Lailah." That was a shocker. "The risks are great, but the consequences of not taking advantage of this opportunity are far greater. And I feel that Lailah has proven within the last decade to be resourceful, capable, and resilient enough to withstand Dracula and any games he will undoubtedly play."

It took everything in Lailah to keep a straight face. Not only was Michael agreeing with her, he was complimenting her as well. It was a wonder her jaw hadn't hit the floor from the amazement. But Michael wasn't done yet.

"I also feel," he continued, "that having Miss Val present to offer Lailah any needed insight on the workings and methods of Dracula could prove invaluable and could also give us an advantage as we will know what to expect from him. Gabriel, you also have experience with the man, and I'm certain that if you have any suggestions to offer Lailah, you'd do so."

Gabriel nodded his head in acquiescence, though Lailah could tell this plan wasn't sitting well with him.

"You have my permission and my blessing to follow through with this course of action, Lailah," Michael concluded. "Any pertinent information you find must, of course, be shared with Raphael, who will continue to act as ambassador between you and heaven for the duration of your stay here. However," and he held his finger up as if in warning, "I need to reiterate that your continued involvement down here goes against everything we angels of heaven stand for – _influence, but do not interfere_. Although we will continue to work on the council in your behalf, if something happens, we may not be able to help you."

"I understand. Thank you, Michael," was all Lailah could manage to get out and she bowed her head in gratitude, feeling so reassured and confident, as though for the first time in over a decade, she could finally see a light at the end of this gloomy tunnel.

She felt Raphael's hand rest on her knee from under the table and he gave it a gentle squeeze of added encouragement and she couldn't help but smile.

"Your confidence means a great deal to me," she added, looking up at Michael with genuine pleasure. "I am certain we'll be fine. We've managed for this long." He nodded in acknowledgement of her gratitude and then stood, Ramiel and Raphael following suit, though Gabriel took a little longer to get out of his chair. He didn't look particularly enthused with the turn of events.

"Then we shall take our leave," Michael announced. "Until we meet again, Lailah," and with a flash of light he was gone, Ramiel and Raphael following after him. Gabriel was still standing beside his chair and Lailah tried to send him a reassuring smile, but his eyes looked heavy with grief and uncertainty.

"Promise me you'll be careful," he said. "You really don't understand what you're getting yourself into, Lailah."

Lailah made her way over to her old friend and allowed him to pull her into his arms. He held her tightly, as if suddenly afraid, but he eventually let her go, one hand resting on her shoulder and the other holding her chin to make sure she looked up at him.

"I'll be fine," she promised him. "Raphael will check on me regularly and if we ever run into any major emergencies, I can always call on my Father."

The mention of Turiel made Gabriel's expression soften.

"Have you visited him lately?"

"I did earlier this evening, just after my meeting with the Count."

"And what did he have to say on the matter?"

"He agrees with you."

That seemed to validate Gabriel's concerns, but he did not push the matter further. It was pointless. Instead, he looked over at Freya, Ana, and David, seated together on one end of the table.

"You three promise me to look after her the way she looks after you," he said firmly, and they all nodded. He then looked at Eva, who seemed a bit concerned by how grave everyone was behaving and he offered the child a smile. "You too," he added, and she nodded her head.

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl," and then he looked back to Lailah. "He's going to try to get under your skin. Don't let him," he warned. "He's really good at that."

"I'll be extra careful," she promised.

Although it wasn't enough to soothe his troubled mind completely, Gabriel finally relented and he vanished in a flash of light, leaving Lailah, David, Freya, Ana, and Eva alone in the bar once again. Lailah could feel their eyes on her, could sense the mixed emotions coming from each of them, but what happened next took her a bit by surprise. Ana stood up, walked over to Lailah, and wrapped her arms around the angel, on the verge of tears.

"Thank you," the vampire whispered, her broken voice awash with gratitude as she uttered the words over and over again. David was the next to stand as he wrapped both women in his arms and held them close, Eva and Freya joining in on the group hug which left several blinking back tears and the rest laughing a bit awkwardly at the sudden display of emotion.

Soon after, everyone went to bed, leaving Lailah to wander the halls in silence, as was her usual habit, the softest of smiles on her face. When she had walked home initially that evening, she had anticipated nothing but shocked and discouraging reactions from everyone, but the support and the confidence she had received instead reassured her in ways she had not predicted.

In that moment, she didn't care what Count Dracula threw at her. With those closest to her giving her their unwavering support, she felt that she could handle anything that came her way.

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><p><strong><strong>I do wonder how long dear Lailah's confidence shall last. Dracula is a force to be reckoned with, no?<strong>**

**You know, I had such lofty and ambitious goals of updating every other week. Don't you all just love how I've quite literally abandoned that at this point? I don't know whether to laugh or cry.**

**Hope you enjoyed the update and please don't forget to review! **

**The muse is always so much more agreeable when you do, which makes me more inclined to update more frequently (hint-hint). I just want your thoughts! I don't require full-blown, in-depth reviews (although I do love those). I just need something that helps me gauge where you all are. I know you're reading this! The traffic stats have told me as much! ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

**I won't be posting again until after Christmas, so ENJOY! And forgive any errors I may have overlooked. **

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><p><em><strong>VII<strong>_

Dracula watched on as the witch in his employ painted the floor with blood, long lines extending outward and connecting together to create a sigil with six candles, one at the end of each line, and a shallow stone bowl at the bottom point where the "offering" was to go. She was muttering an incantation, her words barely discernible and he looked on with mild skepticism as the candles lit on their own volition, the flames dragging high up into the air.

"Are you certain this will work?" the Count asked Verena, who was handing the different ingredients to the witch.

With every offering placed into the bowl, the flames of the candles grew higher and higher still, though his grace seemed unimpressed with the display. He had seen too much in his day to be surprised by anything – especially on the supernatural front.

"Of course I'm certain," Verena replied, accepting a small, curved blade that the witch silently handed to her before exiting the room, her work here complete. "It has been a while since I summoned anything, but the ritual is basic enough. I'm sure you'll be fine," and the bride offered him an encouraging smile that was laced with just a hint of mocking. She knew that wasn't the answer he had been seeking and she laughed in the face of his disapproval. "My love, if he can't give you the information you seek, he will at least be able to give you the names of those who can. He is well connected and knows a vast deal."

She placed the curved blade in his hand before standing beside him, one hand resting on his shoulder while the other idly fiddled with one of the buttons of his waistcoat.

"And how did you find this person again?" he asked, running the edge of the blade over his hand lightly, as if mentally preparing himself for the sacrifice he was about to offer in order to complete the ritual.

"Actually, darling, he found me. It was when we were in Italy – in 2004, I think? You were busy pursuing another woman and I needed something to pass the time. He was excessively diverting." He sent her a censorious look. "Now, now, lover, don't be jealous. He is _nothing_ to you," and she kissed his neck before gently pushing him forward and she watched as he walked over to the sigil and crouched down, resting his open palm over the empty vessel.

"_Daemon, esto subiecto voluntati meae_," he said, and he ran the blade over his palm, careful to get the blood to drop over the small bowl.

The flames on the candles shot several feet into the air the instant his blood touched the bowl and the contents within erupted with a flash of light and red smoke. The Count took a step back to better observe the spectacle and he felt Verena wrap her arm around his as the flames consumed the sigil.

But as quickly as it had started, the fire went out, blown away by an unknown wind that also cleared the smoke, revealing a man standing on top of the blood-painted marking. His head was lowered and his eyes were shut.

The newcomer was immaculately dressed, black suit pants with the inside of his matching trench coat lined in blood-red silk. His dress shirt was a spotless white, pressed to perfection, with a slim black tie offering the appearance of professionalism. It was the leather motorcycle gloves that gave off the hint of danger, the kind that even the most virtuous of women found alluring. His brown hair was a bit long, but combed back, his face shadowed with carefully groomed scruff that gave his otherwise qualified and well-put-together appearance a delightful streak of rugged masculinity.

The newcomer lifted his head slowly, eyes opening to reveal gorgeously dark irises that were marred by the reddish gold ring around each pupil, signifying _what _he was – a fallen angel.

He was a beautiful specimen – imposing, but striking –and when he realized who he was in the company of, a charming and slightly devious smile curved his lips.

"Well this was a pleasure I had not anticipated," the fallen angel began, placing one hand on top of the other and resting them in front of him. "Verena – it's been an age since I saw you last. And you are still as lovely as ever," and he bowed his head in acknowledgement to her before allowing his eyes to fall on the Count. "And you, my summoner, must be the nefarious Vlad Dracul," and he bowed deeply. "I must confess, it has been my fondest wish these past hundred or so years to meet the Prince of Darkness himself."

Dracula had met his fair share of flatterers, but this one in particular intrigued him and he could feel the faintest of smirks tugging at his lips.

"I see my reputation has negated the need for any further introduction, Azazeal," the Count replied. "Though, I must confess, I've heard very faint whispers of your deeds, but never anything beyond."

"I've developed the happy knack of being, well, _mostly _discreet," the fallen angel explained.

"Excellent," and the vampire's sense of deviousness swelled at the promising prospect standing before him. He could already feel that this man would be of use to him and he could hardly wait to begin.

"If you don't mind, my lord," Verena interrupted, the men's attention immediately turning toward her, "I shall leave the two of you to discuss your business."

"What? No pleasure before the business?" Azazeal asked with a faux sense of crushed hopes. "Count, I'm disappointed."

"You know, Verena had neglected to recount the tale of how the two of you met," Dracula added. "Though her blatant omission and the familiarity between the two of you leaves little else to be imagined."

"I hope you're not offended."

"It's in the past. I hold no hard feelings on that point," he assured his guest as Verena excused herself, her smoldering glance towards Azazeal noted by the Count who kept his more possessive nature in check with a carefully released breath. "So, Azazeal, my bride seems to be under the impression that you can help me with a certain dilemma I've found myself in," and he motioned toward another door that led to a small sitting room.

"Is that so?"

"Yes – I'm hoping you can be of use to me."

"That depends entirely upon two things, my liege – the nature of the business and the payment."

Azazeal accepted the Count's offer of a drink before taking a seat in one of the handsome leather armchairs beside the fireplace.

"Obviously. I require information that I understand you may be in possession of."

"And the nature of this information?"

"I need you to tell me everything you know about a certain woman."

"I know a great many women, Count – you'll have to be a little more specific. Is she human?"

"No. I don't require help with petty mortals."

"Such an insinuation was not my intention," Azazeal assured him with a charming smile. "So what variety of female is this woman?"

"Angel."

"Ah – so the devil's son remains as ambitious as ever then? I'm pleased to hear it. Glad to hear your tastes have improved. Lesser angel or archangel?"

"Lesser – though she has the presence of an archangel. Very calm, controlled, and well put together."

"And does this innocent little bird have a name?"

"Lailah. Ring any bells?"

Azazeal froze in his seat, the rim of his glass pressed to his lips, as he stared rather blankly at the vampire across from him. Dracula perceived the recognition in the man's face, the glazed over look that betrayed a life-time of unspoken history and it took everything in the vampire to keep from looking too victorious too soon.

"Many bells, actually," Azazeal finally replied, downing his drink in a single breath as if to calm his nerves and he placed the glass on the table beside the chair. "Including a few that even Pavlov could be proud of. I _may _know her, Dracula, but before I confirm or deny anything, I need to know what assurances you can give me."

"Assurances?" the Count repeated.

"If I give you information on Lailah, I need to know what's in it for me."

"That depends on the use of the information you give me."

"Well then, if that's the way this is going to play out, you'll have to excuse me. I'll show myself out," and Azazeal made a movement to stand, forcing Dracula's hand.

"Name your price."

That got the demon's attention and the vampire watched as the man across from him fought the smirk tugging the corner of his lips.

"For starters, I'd like to know your intentions for her."

"Why would you want to know that?"

"Because reasons," Azazeal snapped. "Give me what I want or I walk."

"Very well, there's no need to get testy," Dracula replied coolly. "She took my daughter – and the child's mother. She has been most uncooperative in giving them back."

"Lailah has never been the kidnapper type, though if she has done what you say, I'm sure she has her reasons."

"Oh, she has her reasons, and from her point of view, I'm sure they're very valid. But she refuses to make any compromises."

"Yes – she is a stubborn one. Stubborn as a mule." He then gave the Count a suspicious look. "But that's not the only reason why, is it? You want something else from her."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Perhaps not, but with all due respect, Count, I know your reputation. I also know hers. And if you are as Machiavellian as people say you are, you don't just want your daughter and the child's mother back. You want Lailah as well. It's not enough to retrieve your stolen property. You desire added compensation, don't you?"

Dracula neither denied nor confirmed the accusations. He merely smiled. Of course, that was confirmation enough for Azazeal and it piqued his curiosity.

"What do you plan to do to her?" he asked suddenly, leaning back in his seat as to get more comfortable.

"She has the potential for much greatness and I think it would be reckless of me to let that potential either go unrecognized or worse, to have it be recognized by the wrong side of the board," the Count answered simply.

"You want her to join your side?"

"In a manner."

"That's going to take much more than an ordinary seduction, Dracula."

"I am no ordinary philanderer."

"Yes, so I've heard," Azazeal said with a sly grin. "Alright then – so I can name my price, then? You must be truly desperate."

"Perhaps," the vampire mused, drawing invisible designs on the arm of his chair with his finger in a thoughtful manner. "Or perhaps I happen to know that you'll tell me what I want to hear with or without compensation, because what is to come will be its own reward."

"That is a very bold assumption."

"Ah, but, you see, I did my research before summoning you. You aren't some ordinary demon, Azazeal, you're a fallen angel. Most angels that fall try to pay their penance so they can re-obtain their former glory. You, however, have made no such efforts. In fact, you've done quite the opposite. Every action you've made has either been for your own selfish gain or in blatant defiance of your inherent nature. You want revenge on those who expelled you from grace. Demons have no choice but to appear when they are summoned. Fallen angels are not bound by such rules, particularly fallen _archangels_. You came here knowing full well what I would ask you for and you even dangled that knowledge in front of me. You want to make Lailah fall and you know I'm the only person who can do it. So the real question is not what's in it for you. The real question is who else are you hoping to injure by assisting me?"

Azazeal leaned forward in his seat a bit, his smile positively wicked, but Dracula could see something in the demon's eyes – something dark and even a little frightening. There was centuries of unspoken hatred in those eyes, a thirst for blood and revenge that far outweighed any other feelings Azazeal may have had.

"Very well, Count – I will give you the information you seek."

"And your price?"

"Your assurance that you will succeed in this endeavor, for one."

"And the other?"

"Protection – should things go… not as planned."

That piqued the Count's interest, but instead of pressing the issue, Dracula tucked it away for another time, determined to remain focused on the issue at hand.

"I give you my word," the vampire replied with confidence.

"And we all know the son of the Father of Lies is a man of his word," the demon said with a smirk. Dracula glared in response to the thinly veiled slight, but Azazeal continued to smile as he leaned back in his seat again. "Ah, Lailah – there's a name I haven't heard in a long, _long_ time," he said with a sigh that was almost wistful.

"So you know her?" Dracula pressed, wishing to get the obvious out of the way.

"To say I _know _her would be a gross understatement," Azazeal said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, a soft smile curving his lips as if he were remembering something sweet. "Oh, I know her _biblically_. Every inch of that beautiful soul and decadent flesh."

Although Lailah was still, in many ways, Dracula's enemy, the thought of her being touched by the man seated in front of him made him want to sneer in disapproval.

What did women see in this self-assured egotist?

"How long have you known her?"

"A good many centuries, though we didn't become lovers right away. That happened long after our first meeting, but I'm sure you don't want to hear that story."

"Actually, I'm most keen to hear that tale, if you don't mind. And please, don't feel the need to spare the details. I would be grateful for _any_ insight regarding her person."

"You mean things like weaknesses and pressure-points?"

"Precisely."

"In order to answer that question, I'll have to provide some back-story," Azazeal explained.

Dracula waved his hand a bit flippantly, as if to encourage him to continue, when the demon opened his eyes and leaned forward suddenly in earnest.

"First off, I want to make one thing abundantly plain – if Lailah ever found out it was me who betrayed her confidence like this, she would have my hide if she could manage to obtain it, so there are some things I will not tell you. If you desire to know Lailah's origin story, for instance, you'll have to ask for it yourself. But I can tell you about the _observations_ that I made during our – you know, I want to say relationship, but I'm not even certain that's what I would call it. We'll just say _arrangement_."

"Any information you could give me would be most appreciated," Dracula replied, doing his best to remain as patient as possible.

"Now, before I met her, I had already fallen by this point," Azazeal began. "Suffice it to say the rules and Michael's tyrannical reign never did suit me. I always preferred to do things my own way and though we never saw eye-to-eye, my little acts of rebellion were never any cause for serious conflict between us until one of the three – an archangel of the first order by the name of Turiel – fell a couple centuries after the coming of our lord and savior," and he crossed himself in a mocking manner.

"After Turiel fell, every other archangel was scrambling to take his place," Azazeal continued. "The claim to that position was mine as next in line, but Michael gave it to some insipid Disney prince named Raphael, who eventually became Lailah's mentor. By the time I met her I had already fallen from heaven's graces, not that I ever missed it – but I remember the day our paths crossed as though it were yesterday," and Dracula watched as the fallen angel's eyes glazed over once again in a serene state of recollection, as if the memories of Lailah were deeply pleasant to him.

"Oh, she was a fierce little thing," the demon said, waxing nostalgic. "Green, certainly, but full of promise and the kind of potential and ambition you don't typically see in lesser angels. She was obedient, though headstrong, with this delicious streak of defiance and sadism that even the devil himself could be proud of. We met on a battle field, as clichéd as that sounds. I could have ended her, but she looked so fetching in her white leathers."

Azazeal paused as if savoring the memory.

"I have a weakness for pretty faces and arrogant women – they're so much more fun to break – so I spared her; saved her from a couple of nasty demons as well and we actually became rather good friends until Michael informed her of who I was and why I had fallen, all but forbidding our association. But she never did like being told what to do, and if Michael hadn't been so emphatic, she probably would have listened."

"Did she reach out to you or you to her?"

"We ran into each other by chance some years later and rekindled our friendship."

"When did it become more than friendship?"

"Sometime in the mid to late 1440s," he recalled thoughtfully. "Something happened to her, though I never did find out what. But she was different. Something in her had changed."

The mention of the decade piqued the Count's interest and he became more attentive.

"Different in what way?" he asked carefully.

"I'm not sure – angels have this ability to see the light in another person's soul, although for some, that gift is stronger than others, depending on their level of empathy. Lailah was always so radiant, but when I saw her again, I think it was some time around '47 or '48, she seemed dimmer somehow. Nothing substantial, it was an understated difference. But it was there. It was like she was carrying this weight around that she hadn't been carrying before and she's been carrying it ever since."

"Intriguing," was all Dracula said.

"Yes, it is. But she sought me out some short time after and – well, suffice it to say, after that, we were no longer _just friends_."

"Did she initiate this new level of intimacy between the two of you or did she need persuasion?"

"I like to think she just finally cracked and decided to give in," Azazeal explained with a bit of smugness. "There had been so much delicious sexual tension between us for years, and one rather random evening when we were walking along the coast in Greece, she suddenly said to me, 'Don't you just love the feeling, when you know it's wrong, but you're going to do it anyway?' She knew what I had wanted from her and in that moment she no longer cared. I suppose she just got tired of the suppression and the denial, and once she gave in – oh! She became _insatiable_... I've often wondered where that woman learned some of the things she did to me. She has quite the imagination."

Azazeal let his words hang in the air for several moments as he watched the Count for some kind of reaction, but the vampire wasn't as shocked or engrossed as he had anticipated. Instead, Dracula had a faraway look in his eyes, as if he were mulling over something in his head and it intrigued the fallen angel, though he said nothing on the subject – merely observed and stowed it away in his mind for later reflection.

"We were on-again off-again for several centuries after that," Azazeal continued, noting how the sound of his voice seemed to snap the Count back into the present, as if he had been somewhere else. "In the early part of the twentieth century, just before the Second World War, she broke things off with me and I haven't seen her since."

"What brought on the abrupt change?" Dracula inquired.

"She had become more serious about aspiring to the rank of archangel and doing so meant breaking off all ties with me," Azazeal explained with the remnants of a disappointed sigh as he stood and made his way over to the minibar to pour himself another drink.

"And that was it?"

"That was the last I saw her. It's been – gosh – two or three-hundred years since then? Last thing I heard about Lailah was that she had become a ruthless, self-righteous woman who keeps everyone at an arm's length. She's not as loose as she used to be. Last I heard she had become an ice queen and a bit of a control freak – like she has cold steel running down her back."

The metaphor was a perfect description of the angel Dracula had become so fascinated by and the brief glimpse into her history had only wetted his appetite further.

"And how was your time with her?"

"Intense," the angel explained with a slight husk in his voice as he retook his seat. "_Very_ intense."

The Count had rested his elbows on the arms of his seat, his fingers entwined except for two which created a sort of steeple that he was lightly tapping against his lips in a thoughtful manner. Azazeal took this as an invitation for additional detail and so he continued.

"In my experience, I have learned that for Lailah, it is all about the anticipation, the build-up, the foreplay. The woman is the queen of denial, but she also has a nice dominate streak I always found rather pleasing."

"Anything I should avoid in my pursual of her?" the vampire asked.

"For starters, I wouldn't be brash about it when you begin – she'll be expecting that, especially from you, given your reputation. She'll be anticipating a hasty and immediate seduction and if you take the direct approach too soon, she'll shut you down before you even get the chance to start. No, I'd recommend getting to know her first. Ask her questions, gain her trust, open up to her – or, if you like, make her think that you are; though I should warn you, she's very good at telling when someone is lying.

"But when she does at last become more comfortable, then you can do what you do best; but the best advice I could give when it comes to her – ease into it. Lailah can be empathetic to a fault at times – and a bit of a martyr with savior complex to boot. If she can uncover some good in a person, she gets tunnel vision and will, in many ways, become willfully blind to the evil staring her in the face. It's gotten her into trouble on several occasions. But if you can get under her skin, I feel confident that success will be imminent."

Count Dracula felt a devious grin tug at the corner of his lips as he formulated a battle-plan in his mind, taking in the information Azazeal had shared with him and trying to come up with ways to put it to good use.

It would be a challenge for sure, but it wasn't as impossible as he had originally thought.

"Azazeal, you have been incredibly helpful," Dracula said at last, lightly smacking the arms of his chair before rising a bit triumphantly from his seat.

"I'm pleased to hear it," the fallen angel replied with a smile and he followed the Count out of the sitting room and into chambers where he had been summoned. "Now then, if you don't mind, I left a fetching little vixen in the second circle all tied up. I'll show myself out. This was indeed a pleasure, Count. We should do this again sometime," and he snapped his fingers as if doing so would allow him to disappear in a puff of smoke.

Well, the smoke came, but when it dissipated, Azazeal was still standing there. He snapped his fingers again, smoke and hellfire erupting around him, but when it cleared away once more, there he was. Dracula was at the other end of the room and he looked back at the perturbed fallen angel with deep amusement.

"Oh, didn't you hear?" Dracula asked, his tone full of mocking. "I had a witch curse the city when Lailah kidnapped my daughter and the child's mother. Anyone can get in, but nobody gets out."

"Well then have your witch lower the curse!" Azazeal insisted.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, even for you."

"_Dracula!_" the fallen angel hissed angrily. "I demand you release me this instant!"

"It's quite out of my hands. I truly am sorry for the inconvenience, but I'm certain you can find another _vixen_ to tie up and have your way with here in the city. There's easily hundreds to choose from," he replied with flippant disregard. "I could give you a list of recommendations if you'd like."

"You mean to tell me I'm stuck here?"

"Until Lailah returns what is mine or I obtain it through other means, yes. I'm afraid you're stuck here with the rest of us."

Azazeal swore under his breath, running his fingers agitatedly through his hair. "That vexatious woman! Of _all_ the people she had to cross, she had to cross the son of the devil!"

"All the more reason for you to help me, then," Dracula replied with a knowing smile – as if this had been his plan all along. "The sooner I have what I want, the sooner you can run free. Or fly… or whatever it is you angels do."

Dracula opened the door to the chamber and was about to exit when Azazeal called out to him.

"Dracula, wait… if you're going to do this, I should probably warn you – "

The vampire turned in the doorway to face him.

"Warn me?"

"About Lailah."

Azazeal paused, as if he were suddenly hesitant to reveal any additional information. But when the Count called out with an impatient "Well?", he sighed heavily in defeat.

"Lailah has this power, a gift of sorts, that you should probably be aware of."

"And that would be?"

"Much of Lailah's appeal comes from her capacity to dwell in darkness and – when she chooses – to remain unaffected by it. It's the gift of being the angel of the night. She's a mediator between heaven and the fallen. Where others wouldn't be able to bear standing in my presence, and vice-versa in my case, with her it's all ease. Part of her job is to help restore the wayward and the fallen to a more congenial path, and she's _very_ good at what she does. There's virtue and an inherent sense of goodness in her that makes her a kind of beacon to those like you or I. Darkness is the absence of light, Count, and I'm certain you've noticed, but we're all like moths to her. We can't help but be drawn to her because that is her nature. And as I mentioned before, she is also _extremely_ empathetic. She has an extraordinary ability to not only see the good in people, no matter how small that good may be, but it goes a bit farther than that. She doesn't just find it, but she nurtures that good as well, often without you even realizing it. It's like – the more you're around her, the more you will find yourself wanting nothing more than to please her in every way possible, and that includes forsaking those favorite sins of ours we don't think we could ever give up."

The Count's expression was one of incredulity.

"Azazeal, I've known my fair share of women – the purest and the most angelic. And you know what happened to every single one I came across?" Dracula asked, his question more rhetorical than anything else. "If I can influence the left hand of God into falling even farther from grace, I think I can handle a _lesser_ angel."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Count," Azazeal insisted, the warning in his tone suddenly very grave and it clearly irritated the vampire. "Take it from someone who knows – there was once a time where I genuinely considered forsaking my ways because of the time I spent with her."

"But you managed to resist," Dracula pointed out. "Are you suggesting I lack that strength?"

"That's not what I'm saying. I just want you to understand the price of such resistance." Azazeal could tell the vampire wasn't going to heed his warning, so he sighed in defeat. "Look, I'm just trying to help."

"And I appreciate that, Azazeal," Dracula replied, though his tone suggested otherwise, "but understand this," and he raised a single finger. "Nothing – no woman _or_ man, in heaven, hell, or otherwise, could change who or what I am. Many have tried and _all of them_ have failed."

When his point had been made, he exited the room in a powerful stride, leaving Azazeal alone, the fallen angel shaking his head in, his face full of skepticism.

"You say that now, Count. But she will find what little good there is in you and she will pull it to the surface, no matter how deeply you've buried it. And those scars don't ever go away."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm not going to lie, Azazeal was one of my favorite characters to create. And for those HEX fans out there, no, he wasn't based off of Michael Fassbender's portrayal of the fallen angel, but upon having it pointed out to me by my beta a while back, if I <em>had<em> to cast someone in this character's shoes, Fassy would be _almost_ perfect. But no, this wasn't a blatant lift from an already existent universe. I'll admit to it being subconsciously done, but not purposefully. **

**So yeah.**

**There's your second chapter for the week. A huge thanks to those that took the time to review and to those of you who continue to read. **

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on this installment, so leave a review and let me know what you thought!  
><strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from your very sleepy authoress! Hope you enjoy the chapter! There's so much more to come! But for now, read on, my friends, and forgive any errors I may have missed. **

* * *

><p><em><strong>VIII<strong>_

A recording of Bach's Aria from the Goldberg Variations played in the background of the Count's private chambers as he carefully examined his options – from the clothing to the cologne. The sarabande was light, expressive, and subtly playful, seeming to intensify the feelings of nervous apprehension fluttering in his stomach as his fingers brushed against the soft material of his expertly tailored clothes. He dressed slowly, running what he planned to do and say over and over again in his head, while simultaneously making sure everything about his personal preparations were immaculate. Everything he did was methodical and with purpose. Tonight would mark the beginning of a battle of wills, one that he was fully confident he would win.

On the other side of town, Lailah was also taking as much care in her preparations as the Count, although hers differed somewhat. Where Dracula was savoring the delicious anticipation, Lailah's feelings were more of anxiety. Although she had the full support of her friends and colleagues, having three full days to think it over left her suddenly unsure of her abilities. Ana was constantly giving Lailah pointers regarding the Count's techniques, things he would try and things she should be wary of. Freya, though she had never met the Count in person, was also very well aware of the vampire's reputation and though she kept most of her concerns to herself, the angel could tell that the witch also shared in Ana's concerns.

But if Lailah was anything, she was resilient and committed, and not just because she wanted to prove to Michael that she could handle someone like Dracula – the notorious prince of darkness – she also wanted to prove to all of heaven that she was worthy of the status and the power she had worked so hard and sacrificed so much to obtain. She would become the first female archangel in an age – an honor few of her sex had hopes of obtaining. On top of her own character, there was also the lives of Eva, Ana, David, and even Freya at stake. In many ways, Lailah had become fully conscious of the fact that she had so much more to gain – and lose – than Dracula did, which made her methodical preparations a laborious process.

"She's spent hours in the last three days reading every history and account on Count Dracula that we could get our hands on," David explained to Freya, trying to put the woman's uneasiness to rest.

"And she spent the better part of last night rummaging through my head, with your help, I might add, so she could get a better picture of what he's like," Ana added. "And for the record, I may have consented to that, but I still feel violated. I don't like the idea of _anyone_ knowing every intimate detail of my life – yet I did it for the good of us all."

"Yes, I understand that," Freya began, "but this is still Dracula we're talking about…"

"Well, I for one, agree with that angel friend of hers – Raphael," David insisted, straddling a chair at the table Freya and Ana were seated at. "If anyone can take care of herself around Dracula, it's Lailah."

"I just," and Freya paused, looking over her shoulder as if to make sure Lailah wasn't there, and then she leaned in, lowering her voice. "How much to do we know about Lailah? I mean really? Yes, we've all been living under the same roof for ten years now and she's been wonderful and supportive and she's sacrificed a lot. I get that. But we have no idea who she really is outside of an angel with a killer fashion sense who also happens to be amazing with Eva. I mean, if it was just Dracula she was going up against – if he was just another man, that would be one thing. But he has that witch, the most powerful witch that my kind has ever seen. And it was Dracula that made this proposal, which means he has to have a plan. What if something happens? What if she can't handle him after all? You yourself, Ana, have said time and time again that he is ruthless and unrelenting. He _always_ gets what he wants and whomever he wants. If he can get an archangel to fall, what's to say he won't do the same to Lailah? And then what happens to us? We're defenseless, trapped in a city with no way out and nowhere to run. If she fails, Ana, those angels will most likely take Eva and leave the rest of us here to die."

"I don't like it any more than you, but what choice do we have?" Ana insisted, reaching across the table and taking Freya's hand with a sense of urgency. "Do not forget, I have experienced the Count's manipulation first-hand, and I have to live with the consequences of what I did, what I allowed him to do to me – I live with that every day, Freya."

Ana's voice caught in her throat as her mind flooded with memories she wished she could forget – his ruthless seduction, how she finally gave into him, even though her heart and soul belonged to another. The sense of betrayal at her own hands haunted her, and though David had fully forgiven her, she still hadn't managed to forgive herself, even after all these years. She felt David's hand rest on her knee and he gave it a reassuring squeeze and the small action of support allowed her to refocus on the present.

"But still, after everything, I have faith in Lailah," Ana continued. "I have to. I have to believe that she can do this, that she can get us out of this mess and as far away from this city and that demon of a man as is physically possible. And until that time comes, I have to believe that she will continue to watch out for us as she has for the last decade. Because _no one_ else is going to save us, Freya. At this point, we can't even save ourselves. I don't like this anymore than you do, but this is our only chance."

The reality of their situation hung heavily in the air as they sat around the table, their eyes all cast downward as they contemplated the last year and the weight of what was to come.

"I just wish there was something more we could do," Freya finally said with a sigh.

"Right now, the best thing we can do is support her and be there for her," David replied, pulling out a peach he had kept in his coat pocket and lightly rubbing the fuzz with his palm. "Besides, if I've learned anything in my life, it's never to underestimate the willpower of a woman on a mission," he added with a cheeky grin that lightened the atmosphere.

As if on cue, the door in the back of the bar opened and Lailah stepped through, Eva following close behind. The young girl quickly made her way over to the table and sat beside her mother as they all looked at the angel.

Lailah had been most careful in her personal preparations – that much was evident. She donned her usual black, the dress itself at first glance a bit understated, with its wrapped style and tasteful V-neck, revealing just a hint of cleavage. The long sleeves she had pushed up to her elbows and the black nylons and glossy stilettos she wore classed up the deceptively plain dress.

David swore in approval before biting into his peach, his eyes lingering on those legs that seemed to go on for ages.

"I'm not very acquainted with the tastes of Dracula," he said, wiping the dribble of juice from his chin with the back of his hand, "but damn, woman. You clean up nice."

Lailah smiled in pleasure at his praise, but she didn't blush. It wasn't in her nature.

"So I have your approval then?" she asked, turning around once. "I was afraid it would be too much."

"Too much?" Freya repeated in surprise. "If you had worn a skin-tight leather dress and fishnets, _that_ would have been too much."

"I don't break out the leather until the third or fourth date," Lailah replied absent-mindedly, the comment taking everyone by surprise, each unsure if she was being serious or if she was teasing. But their expressions made her laugh. "I didn't want to be blatant in my attire," she explained. "It's all about capturing the attention and stirring the imagination. It's too early in the game. This allows me the appearance of being comfortable while remaining aloof at the same time."

"I seriously doubt he'll be reading into the way you dress as much as you think he will," Freya said with a cheeky grin.

"The clothes we wear always give off impressions that only the subconscious picks up on – he may not take actual note of it, but it'll set the tone," the angel replied, explaining her rationale.

"Well, he'll be lucky if he can keep from staring at those legs," David added with a wolfish grin, earning a nice smack on the arm from Ana.

"I think she looks beautiful," Eva replied with a firm nod of approval.

"Thank you, dear," Lailah replied sweetly.

"Oh! And before you go, Raphael stopped by while you were getting ready and wanted to give you this. Said he'd come by again in the next couple of days to see how tonight goes," Freya said, revealing a small glass bottle filled with a familiar glowing liquid that Lailah recognized as water from heaven.

She accepted the offering with a look of relief and quickly consumed the contents in a single breath, a small grin curving her lips as the light and warmth slid down into her belly before spreading through her body. Lailah felt rejuvenated, confident, and grateful that Raphael had remembered her. She silently wished to herself that he could have been there to see her off, but it would appear this was just another battle she'd have to walk into alone.

* * *

><p>Lailah appeared on the other side of the wall of the palace in the main courtyard – the same courtyard where she had first met Dracula on the fateful evening of Eva's birth. She never thought she'd be looking up at the massive palace before her again, but here she was, ascending the stairs as the enormous structure towered over her, enveloping her in an ominous shadow as the tall towers blocked out the last rays of the setting sun.<p>

She couldn't help but feel like she was willingly placing herself on what Ana so often referred to as Dracula's chessboard, and their meeting this evening would mark her first move in a dangerous game. From what Lailah had gathered during their last meeting, Dracula knew very little about her – which put her at an advantage. She just had to make sure she kept him at arm's length if she was to stay one step ahead of him.

When the angel reached the main entrance, she found Zane and another gentleman she did not recognize waiting for her at the pair of gigantic double doors. The stranger was tall – easily a head taller than the captain of Dracula's guard, who was already a towering figure in his own right. But this man had long, unruly brown hair that hung a bit past his shoulders and eyes that were fierce and red like the sunset above their heads.

Though dressed in the standard leather armor each of the Count's soldiers wore, this man's leathers were battle-worn, stained in blood that appeared to be both his own and that of whatever unfortunate souls he had come across. His arms were folded over his chest as he looked her over with a hard expression, a thick, steel sword strapped to his waist and what appeared to be a battle axe strapped to his back.

Lailah was so busy scrutinizing, she hardly heard Zane address her.

"Welcome again, miss. My master is expecting you," the captain replied as the doors opened behind him. He motioned for her to enter, leaving the tall and foreboding looking stranger standing outside as the doors shut behind them. The place was much quieter than when she had visited a few days ago. Without the lively music and conversation of a ball, the air had an eerie and uncomfortable kind of silence to it, the only sound being the muted click of her stilettos against the beautiful rug that covered the polished mahogany floor.

"You must forgive Henrik for his silence," Zane added, mistaking her reserve for intimidation of the stranger outside. "He is suspicious of everyone. But now that he knows who you are, he should be of no concern."

She offered him no reply, only followed his prompted lead as he began to walk down a dimly lit corridor which soon opened up into a grand foyer with high vaulted ceilings and a stunning chandelier of sparkling crystal which littered the marble-tile floor with little rainbows as it hung over a grand staircase that led to the second floor. The space appeared to be empty, except for a single figure who was standing in the center of the stairs, her hands folded patiently in front of her. Verena was dressed in a long black evening gown, must less provocative than the last one Lailah had seen the bride in. Zane appeared surprised to see her and he swiftly bowed.

"Mistress, forgive me. I did not see you standing there," he began before lifting his eyes to look upon what was easily the most beautiful creature the man had ever had the chance to behold. Verena's loveliness had always been well-known and there were few that ever compared to the dark beauty. "The master has requested that I escort his guest to the throne room," he explained to his mistress, who sighed in a bored fashion.

Lailah had to keep from rolling her eyes. _The throne room? Really?_

"There is no need for that. I will take her the rest of the way," Verena replied, carefully raising the edge of her skirt as to keep from stepping on the ends of her dress as she began to ascend. "Lailah, if you'll follow me please."

The angel could tell that he wanted to argue, but Zane pressed his lips tightly together and took a step back after motioning for Lailah to follow after Verena. The vampire waited for the angel to catch up at the top of the stairs before proceeding down a long and winding hall and a couple additional sets of stairs, the tension so thick between them, it could have been cut with a knife.

Although the silence was a bit unnerving to Lailah, it was nothing compared to the vibes of anxiety that were radiating off of Dracula's bride. As stalwart and blasé as she appeared to be on the surface, years of experience allowed Lailah the ability to pick up on the woman's uneasiness, and for the briefest of moments, she pitied the vampire.

This could not have been easy for her, Lailah thought to herself. Verena had been with the Count for many years – she understood his motivations, his methods, and his appetites. True, she had managed to keep his attention for the last couple of centuries, but at what cost to herself, Lailah wondered silently. Verena didn't exactly strike her as the needy or hopelessly romantic type, but she also was not the kind of woman that enjoyed sharing what she felt she had earned. It was clear that sense of possessiveness had been derived thanks to the Count's influence.

"I'm surprised you agreed to do this," Verena finally said, breaking the silence, though her eyes remained fixed in front of her. "I would have thought you smarter than to walk so willingly into the den of the devil."

Lailah glanced over at Verena out of the corner of her eye.

"He gave me little choice," she replied with an honesty that surprised the vampire.

"I just hope you're aware of what you're walking into," Verena said.

"I am aware."

"No, I really don't think you are," the vampire insisted rather forcefully, stopping suddenly to turn and look at the angel. "I think if you really understood what you're about to subject yourself to, you wouldn't do it."

"Don't concern yourself with affairs that are none of your business, Verena," Lailah replied, taking a step forward as if to move passed her, but the vampire suddenly grabbed her by the wrist, taking Lailah by surprise.

"Are they really worth it?" Verena asked, her voice an emphatic whisper. "Is Ana and that child of his worth everything you've sacrificed? Everything you're _about_ to sacrifice. Take it from someone who has stood on the sidelines watching this same game for the past four centuries, Lailah. Cut your losses while you're ahead. Give him what he wants and walk away."

Lailah's dark blue eyes fell upon Verena with a ferocity that made the vampire release the woman's wrist. Her gaze pierced the vampire's very soul, as if the angel could see past the cool exterior into the whirlpool of pain, humiliation, and that horrible feeling of being so completely and utterly lost. What Lailah found in Verena's dark eyes surprised her somewhat and the intensity of her gaze eased.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked in hushed tones.

For the first time since their paths had crossed last, Verena did not appear as confident as she normally did. For a brief moment that easily could have been missed, she looked hopeless.

"Because in the end, Dracula _always_ gets what he wants," she whispered, her voice full of foreboding. "Trust me. Not only do I have first-hand experience, but I've watched countless men and women alike bend and break at his will." She began to walk again, Lailah following close behind as they approached a pair of double doors at the end of the corridor. "The question is never who will win – but how much are you willing to sacrifice between now and your inevitable defeat."

"You have a great deal of faith in his abilities, don't you?"

"I've moved past the point of faith, Lailah. I _know_."

They stopped at the doors and Verena rested her hand on the handle before turning to look back at Lailah.

"Well, thank you for the unsolicited advice," the angel replied calmly. "But I assure you, Verena. I know what I'm up against – more than you realize."

"No you don't," Verena insisted quietly as she turned the handle. "You have no idea."

She pushed open the double doors with both hands before stepping to one side so Lailah could enter.

The room was enormous.

With high ceilings, gigantic scenes of ancient battles passed sculpted into the stone walls, upon first glance the space was opulent and even slightly intimidating. The chamber was lit with hundreds of candles, the melted ivory wax creating impressive looking stalactites that made it appear older than it perhaps was.

The aisle that led to the throne was lined with impressive columns that had equally imposing statues of winged females wrapped around them, their wings fierce, their figures gold, nude, and well-endowed, whilst their stares were blank, yet simultaneously ominous.

The walls were lined with high paned windows, framed in thick, luxurious red drapes that were pulled back, allowing the moonlight to stream through the glass.

Yet, despite the extravagance, the most impressive feature was the throne on which Dracula sat. Behind the opulent seat was another sculpture of equally impressive size and weight which blocked a large window, the statue appearing to be half-man, half-dragon.

The Count was lounged in his chair, elbows resting on the armrests, feet firmly on the ground. Although the distance between them was rather great, as the doors shut behind her, sealing the two of them in the room, Lailah could feel the intensity of his gaze burning into her flesh.

There was no turning back now.

Raising her chin just a little higher as she squared her shoulders, she began to approach. The click of her heels against the polished floor resonated off of the high ceilings, and though the stone glare of the statues that watched her as she proceeded down the aisle were unnerving, she never betrayed a moment of discomfort. Centuries of practice allowed her expression to be that of the sculptures – cold.

When at last she reached the small steps that led up to the throne, she stood before him, neither bowing nor nodding her head in acknowledgement of him. She remained utterly still, daring to meet his gaze and refusing to shrink. They took one another in – one opponent to the other, each quiet, as if planning their next course of action. It was Dracula who finally broke the silence by addressing her.

"Lailah."

Her name on his lips produced the slightest quiver of anticipation in her that she immediately checked. The way he spoke it had been rich and full of depth, as if the very syllables produced an inordinate amount of pleasure in him – something that took her a bit off guard.

"You angels are always right on time," he added, his words full of meaning. "Thank you for being so punctual."

Lailah nodded in acknowledgement, though said nothing, watching him closely as his eyes ran up and down her figure in one long, leisurely sweep.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been so blatantly objectified, and though the licentious look in his eyes initially repulsed her, there was the smallest part of her that enjoyed it. The rest of her, however, was annoyed. Though his examination was technically brief, it felt like an age, and when at last he stopped, he stood.

"I suppose we should discuss how these sessions of ours will go before we proceed?" he offered, motioning for her to follow him out onto the terrace.

"I didn't realize these meetings of ours were to be so formal," she replied with the faintest hint of mocking in her voice.

"They're not meant to be formal, but I think having an established setting, perhaps some boundaries, would be prudent."

"Did I just hear the great Count Dracula propose the implementation of _boundaries?_" she asked, that teasing lilt in her voice becoming more pronounced.

"I'm not as boorish as people like to think," he defended, and she had the nerve to laugh.

"No, no, of course you're not. It's not like every single person I've come in contact with in the last seventy-two hours hasn't warned me about your reputation. Count Dracula, I'm flattered that you're trying to be civil about this. Truly, I am. If you were any other man than the one you are, this charade of yours would be most convincing. But a blatant disregard for an opponent's intelligence coupled with an equally undisguised attempt at deception is insulting at best. If you're going to attempt to convince me to surrender Ana and Eva to you, at least have the decency to be honest about it."

Her frankness took him a bit off-guard and he struggled to regain his metaphorical footing.

"Eva?" he repeated. "You mean my daughter? Is that what Ana chose to call her?"

"Yes," she answered with sudden caution. She watched him closely, noting the softening of his expression as he tested out the name once more, thoughtfully repeating it.

"Hmm… not my first choice of a name, but it possesses a kind of weight to it. _Eva_…Tell me, Lailah, what is my daughter like?"

"Maybe if you weren't so keen on destroying her to save your own skin, you'd be able to know for yourself," she said, her reply sounding more like a snap. In an effort to keep from antagonizing him, she continued, making a concentrated effort to soften the tone of her voice. "She's just a child, Count. Hardly a threat to you."

"Perhaps that is the case now, but there have been plenty of children that have grown up to commit patricide. I refuse to be another statistic."

"But I suspect you're not as heartless as you like to pretend to be," Lailah answered thoughtfully. "Forgive me if my plain speech offends you, Count, but I know how long and how hard you've worked to preserve your lineage, to have blood of your blood, flesh of your flesh. Why would you risk all of that hard work just because some witch prophesies that your child will be the means of your destruction? Do you really surrender so much of your ability to make your own choices to something as arbitrary and unreliable as fate? Do you truly consider infanticide to be your only option?"

Dracula was not accustomed to being spoken to in so blunt a manner.

Had it been anyone else, that level of insolence and presumptiveness would have been met with violence. But when Lailah spoke thus, he found it oddly refreshing. Disconcerting, of course, especially considering that she claimed to understand or at least know of his personal struggles, and existing in such a level of transparency – and with a woman, no less – was something he never enjoyed.

Like Lailah, he suspected this woman, this angel, was a great deal like himself – carefully guarded by meticulously constructed walls that kept the secrets in and everyone else out. Dracula realized in that moment, if he was ever going to get under her skin, he'd have to let her get under his, or at least let her think that she had.

"I take it you do not believe in fate?"

"No, I do not," she replied simply and with confidence. "Prophecies are unreliable because destines are made, forged through free will and through conscious choice, not fate. I believe in potential, Count. And whether or not one reaches their potential is a matter of personal decision."

"And what of those factors in life that we simply have no control over?"

"We still choose how we react to those situations. Sometimes it is easier to blame fate for our misfortunes, rather than take responsibility for our own weakness and shortcomings. Things like prophecies or fortune telling - the only reason any of that bears any weight is because of the few instances those predictions proved true, when in actuality it was all merely the power of suggestion. We are still accountable for the choices we make."

"That is very idealistic of you," he replied as they continued to walk along the terrace.

"Ideals give us something to strive for. If you take away ideals, you have no reason for progression."

"Now that I can agree with. Tell me, Lailah, why do you think I should spare the lives of Ana and my daughter? Do you think I should ignore the warnings and prophecies of one with the sight?"

"I think that if you let them go, you would be saving not only yourself, but you'd be sparing the life of your only child and the child's mother – something a gracious and noble ruler would do."

He chuckled darkly at her comment.

"As appealing as your argument is, my dear, I'm afraid I must ask if you've ever heard of me – the man who has been called the prince of darkness, the son of the devil – as being merciful."

"Perhaps not during your time as a vampire, but I do recall that you were once proclaimed to be one of the best of men long ago, before you relinquished your sense of humanity for power."

He didn't seem to react much to her words, merely smiled that ever-charming smile of his, his hands still resting behind his back as they continued to walk; however, it took everything in him to keep that façade of indifference in place.

"There are few who lived to see that time that still exist today – and I can assure you that the majority of them would disagree. I can be a generous man, but make no mistake, I am accustomed to getting what I want and by any means necessary," and he glanced over at her to find her watching him closely. "I will not hesitate to remove any and all obstacles from my path."

"I have been warned, then," Lailah replied, though it was plain to him that she did not believe him.

_Her mistake_, he mused silently to himself.

"So outside of my own survival, you haven't offered me any real reason to acquiesce," he added a bit more lightly. "So far, there's really nothing in it for me."

"Is your own survival not reason enough?" she asked and he noticed that teasing lilt in her voice again.

"I've been around for many, many centuries, angel. My opponents always insist that they are the ones who have power over my own existence, but each and every one of them has been mistaken."

"Still the overly ambitious, self-confident survivalist, I see. Glad some things haven't changed," she mused under her breath and he sent her a bewildered look, though said nothing on the familiarity of her words.

Who was this woman, and where did she get the inclination to presume she knew him?

"Why don't I offer you a counter proposal?" he continued. "I'll spare the child's life, but only if you agree to come and allow me to spend some time with her."

"No."

"Alright, what about Ana? She should naturally be punished for her defiance, though if you agree to return her to me, I will stay any punishment," he tacked on quickly, "but she will be forbidden contact with the child for the rest of her days and this werewolf lover of hers will need to be banished from the city to remove any fantasies of escape."

"Tempting, but no," Lailah replied, once more with that mocking playfulness of hers. "I would never willfully subject someone who I consider a dear friend to that kind of fate, even if she was to agree to it herself. You've taken so much away from her already, Count – and all because of her unfortunate lineage and your absurd need to be in control of everything and everyone. She doesn't deserve that kind of treatment, especially from you."

"_Especially_ from me?" he repeated, confounded.

"Yes. After everything Valerious did for you – and this is how you repay him? By tormenting his bloodline for centuries, even if they've done nothing to offend you! What happened to you, Vladislaus?"

Dracula had born her inexcusable and bewildering sense of familiarity for long enough in his mind, and he snapped, as if even the very mention of Valerious the Elder had switched something off in his brain, and he whirled around, hell in his eyes as he towered over her.

"Do not _presume_ to know me," he hissed venomously. "I will not be spoken to in such a fashion, especially by some insipid, self-righteous _lesser _angel. I have been very gracious with you, woman. Do not press me further, unless the evocation of my wrath is what you seek. Do I make myself clear?"

Most shrank in response to his fury, but not Lailah, and though part of him admired her for it, it also irritated him further. Even though he was encroaching on her personal space, looming over her, she rooted herself firmly in place, daring to stare directly into his eyes.

"Abundantly," she replied.

Satisfied with her answer, he allowed the anger that had set his blood to boil ease out of him as he took a step back, straightening his jacket with a single tug.

"Good."

They continued their walk in silence for several extended moments after, moving up a set of stairs that led to a tall tower. The Count desperately racked his brain for some way to regain control over the situation, to dispel the awkwardness that now resided between them because of his outburst and get the conversation back on track.

"I have one last proposal to make, but upon further reflection, I'm beginning to think such would be a moot point."

"I will hear you out, either way," she assured him. "What is this other proposal?"

"I will have Myra raise the barrier over the city and will allow the child, Ana, and even her werewolf lover to leave and live out their days in peace if…"

"If what?"

"If you join my side of the board and come work for me."

Her look of surprise amused him deeply.

"Why on earth would I risk falling just to come work for you?" she asked him, again with that insolence in her voice. "And I mean that most sincerely. You have nothing to offer me – even with the promise of Ana and Eva's freedom. Besides, you barely even know me."

"Actually, from what I've gathered through my own observation and from what I've been told, I'd be willing to put up with your _quirks_ for the sake of having someone with your resume," he explained as they began to walk along the battlements of the palace and towards what appeared to be the highest tower where a familiar red light was glowing from the windows.

"What you've been told?" she repeated.

"I ran into an old friend of yours a couple of days ago," he explained, his eyes filled with mischievousness. "A fallen angel, I believe is what he said he was. He spoke very highly of you."

Dracula noticed that Lailah had stopped walking alongside him and he turned to catch what was left of the most shocked and deeply disturbed of expressions on her face – and it made him positively gleeful.

Ah! There was the upper-hand he had longed to obtain.

"And what, pray tell, was this fallen angel's name?" she asked him carefully, the faintest hint of dread in her voice.

His smile was positively wicked.

"Azazeal."

The Count watched with utter fascination as a myriad of emotions passed through her eyes – recognition, shock, disappointment, anger, lust, and anger again.

"What did he tell you?" she asked, the question sounding more like a demand the second time she said it, and he continued to observe her, intrigued when her sense of control began to slip. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he pushed her just a little more, perhaps dug his finger into the metaphorical wound he had unveiled.

"Oh, where would I even begin?" he said, taking full advantage of the opportunity to tease _her_ now. It was clear that this was answer enough and he noted how Lailah visibly cringed, a hinted flush of anger - maybe even humiliation - in her cheeks as she closed her eyes and muttered what sounded like a curse in some language he did not understand before she regained her composure.

"Well, I won't pretend that I'm not very disappointed to hear that, though I guess I shouldn't be surprised," she said at last, a twinge of defeat in her voice.

"Now don't be embarrassed, my dear," he replied encouragingly as they fell into step again. "Although your struggle with authority could cause some issues, for the most part I find a great deal of those traits of yours particularly agreeable, appealing even. I could use someone with your talents. You are teeming with untapped and unappreciated potential, Lailah. I've heard about your ambitions to become an archangel."

"You are the last person who could help me with my _ambitions_, Dracula," she answered with evident irritation.

"Actually, I think I can help you" he said as they entered the tower.

The room was spacious and empty save it were a single figure floating in the center of the chamber. Lailah immediately recognized Dracula's witch – Myra is what he had said her name was – and the angel continued to linger almost apprehensively in the doorway while Dracula began to circle the room.

Myra's dark and gently curled brown hair was floating in the air around her as if the space she inhabited was free of all gravity. Her eyes were closed, but a strange red light seemed to emanate from her hands as she muttered something in a language that Lailah recognized as Enochian, or at least some bastardized derivative of the angelic language.

"What is she doing?" Lailah asked, cautiously keeping her eyes on the witch, missing the smug grin on the Count's face.

"Have you ever heard of the stone of the angels, or _petram de lumen_?"

"That's its more rudimentary name, but yes. Every angel has heard of it."

"Interesting little rock," he said, continuing to circle the room slowly. "The legend states that it contains an unnatural power, immune to all forms of magic in the likeness of the power that archangels of the first order possess. A gemstone with the power to harrow hell or heaven with a flick of the wrist."

The Count had made his way back to Lailah at this point and she could feel his gaze burning into her flesh as he stood behind her.

"She's looking for it," he whispered in her ear, his breath gently caressing the skin of her neck. She could feel him there behind her, the wall of his chest a mere inch from her shoulder blades, his cheek brushing against her hair. "You know, I originally wanted this power for myself, but I'd be willing to share it with you," he continued, his voice low and subtly sensuous. "Normally, I like to be the one in control," he added idly, his eyes gliding away from Myra, whom they were both watching, and down the smooth path of her collar bone to the gentle rise of her bosom and the view made him feel devious. "But I'd be willing to work out some sort of arrangement with you," and he carefully rested one hand on her shoulder.

Her lack of an immediate response was promising to him and though experience had taught him not to celebrate victories before they actually occurred, for the first time in ten years, it felt like there was a light at the end of this tunnel – and, as clichéd as it seemed, that light was heavenly. But, as he had anticipated, she turned to face him, her expression full of suspicion.

"Why should I trust you?" she asked him carefully, her eyes narrowed. "What's in it for you?"

"You know the phrase 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer?' Although that is what we may be now, I do not wish to remain enemies with you, Lailah. From what I've heard and from what I've witnessed, you are a force to be reckoned with. I think both of us would greatly benefit from creating this alliance. You will get the power and the respect you have been long denied, the status you've worked so hard to obtain. Ana and Eva and anyone they choose to take with them will be free _and_," he added, eager to sweeten the deal, "I give you my word of honor to personally see to it that they remain unharmed for as long as I live. In return, I only ask for your allegiance and your support when I request it. I will not expect the same fealty and signs of deference and tribute that I expect from others in my employ and you will be treated with the respect and adoration you are entitled to as a woman, as an angel, and as my right hand. All I ask," and he took a step toward her and took her hand in both of his and raised it to his lips, his eyes fixed on hers, "is that you respect my wishes, are obedient when I expect obedience – and in return, I will give you _everything _your heart desires."

His lips brushed against the knuckles of her hand, his eyes full of veneration and promised pleasure that left Lailah horribly conflicted. Her eyes pulled away from his gaze as she looked up at Myra who was still floating undisturbed in the center of the room and she felt a chill run over her.

She was tempted – so very, very tempted.

The position of archangel had been denied her for years, always because the council declared she was never ready because she was still too headstrong and defiant of authority. Yet, here was Count Dracula, offering her that same power with similar prestige, and he had no problem with that slightly rebellious side of her that tended to question everything.

If she agreed, she'd be able to guarantee not just the freedom and protection of Ana and Eva, but of David and Freya as well. Yet despite the temptation, she could not shake that unsettling feeling in her gut that something was terribly wrong about his offer, as if it was too good to be true.

In fact, it _was _too good to be true.

The more she dwelled on it, the more uncomfortable she became and she pulled her hand out of his hold.

"No," she said in a tone that was hushed and severe.

Before he could react, she quickly turned and exited from the room, using her power to put some space between them, which gave her the opportunity to quickly ground herself in her resolution before his anticipated inquisition. He found her on the terrace outside of the throne room, her back to him so he could not see the uncertainty in her face.

"No?" he repeated, feigning surprise which to her appeared almost genuine. She turned to face him and he could tell she had walled herself up.

"No," she confirmed.

"Do I get a reason why?" he asked.

"The temptation is not worth the risk," she answered simply. "You can promise me power, prestige, and the honor that comes with being your right hand – but what of my name, what of my personal integrity, my sense of honor, the ingratitude such a selfish action would inevitably display to those who have given so much to help me get to where I am now? It would be a slap in the face to who I am and all I hold dear. No, Count," she answered more resolutely. "I will earn the respect and the power I seek the right way, the honorable way."

"There is no dishonor in taking the initiative," he insisted, but she would not be swayed.

"I won't do it. Even if it wasn't so underhanded, I couldn't do it. I can't trust you. You stand there, promising me status and worship, and you may insist that I do not know you, and that may be true. But I know your reputation, Dracula, and I could never bind myself to a man such as you in any way, shape, or form. Our mere association is damaging enough. No. My instincts forbid such an alliance, in every sense. Do I have to speak any plainer?"

"No," he said at last, appearing deeply dissatisfied by her response. "I'll admit, I am disappointed," he added as they reentered the throne room, "though I'm not exactly surprised either. You clearly think the absolute worst of me, and though I understand, it is no less discouraging."

He stole a quick glance at her out of the corner of his eye and caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a hint of concern lightly furrowing her brow.

The game wasn't over yet.

"I see that you will not be swayed at this time, and I respect that," he said, taking a seat on the arm of his throne. "But allow me at least the chance to prove that I am not as horrible as you think. That I may be your best option to obtaining what you want. A better option than that of the angels."

"I seriously doubt your ability to prove such a thing," she replied.

"Ah, but I think I can do it," he answered confidently. "It is clear to me, Lailah, that you think you know me. I'd like to give you the rare opportunity to actually do so. Would you agree to meet with me again, for dinner, tomorrow evening? I will tell you anything you wish to know about myself, if you promise to at least consider my offer."

"You'll tell me anything?" she repeated.

"I give you my word."

"Even if I ask you about Gabriel Van Helsing?"

She saw how rigid he went at the sound of that man's name, and for a moment, she was certain he would back-peddle, but to her surprise, he remained firm.

"Haven't you already heard the story from his own lips? Last I heard, he had managed to re-obtain his lost memories."

"Of course I've heard _his side_, but it was vague at best, and I've yet to hear yours," she said, suddenly sounding sneaky. He smiled at this, folding his arms over his chest.

"Very well. If you wish – I will tell you about my dealings with Gabriel Van Helsing."

"Then I will _consider_ your offer," she said. "Though I should warn you, the likelihood of me accepting it is slim."

"I understand that may be the case now, but I'm willing to take my chances."

"If you insist."

"Oh, I do."

Although everything about him in that moment was charm and grace, underneath the surface, Dracula was all maniacal laughter. Everything was going precisely as planned. Another meeting meant another opportunity to get under her skin and if he continued to be patient and to play his cards just right, he would have everything he wanted in no time at all. He stood suddenly and extended his hand.

"Until tomorrow evening, then."

They shook hands, her grip firm and a deliciously wicked little thought suddenly made him smile deviously.

"What is it?"

"I was just thinking about something your old paramour had said."

He felt her grip slacken dramatically as she went to pull her hand away but he held it steadfast, refusing to let her go.

"If you were wise, you'd forget everything that demon told you."

"Unfortunately, I don't think that'll be possible," and he looked her over like he had earlier in the evening, only this time it was more blatantly sexual. "I have to admit, however, I did take a little peek inside his brain when he was here – couldn't help myself. I was just too curious." The look she was giving him was priceless, and though reason told him not to push her further, he couldn't resist. "I'm afraid your delectable figure and the sound of you on the edge of oblivion are burned into my brain forever. What was it he called you? ... _My queen_?"

Before he could tease her further, an invisible force with the weight of a ton of bricks sent him flying across the room, his body colliding with a sickening smack against the far wall. When he managed to peel his face off the cool marble of the floor and blink away the stars that were dancing in front of his eyes, he found Lailah still standing beside his throne, her hand outstretched.

He started to laugh when he noticed how her eyes had darkened with rage and his reaction had her sending him across the room once again, this time through a window and sliding out onto the terrace where she held his body over the edge of the balcony with the power of her will.

Myra, the witch, sensing her master's trouble, was down there in an instant, all power and fury as she prepared to attack the angel, but Dracula raised his hand to stop her.

"No, no, my dear. I deserve it. I purposefully offended her."

Myra looked between the two of them warily with dark eyes, but obeyed her master and backed down. Lailah eventually released the Count, allowing him to remain on the terrace, leaning against the edge, though out of any danger.

"My apologies, Lailah," he said with a slight chuckle, wiping the blood from his nose as it healed. "I just wanted to see what you were capable of. And now I know."

Lailah made her way over to him in four powerful strides, grabbing him forcefully by the lapels of his coat before getting in his face.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, _demon_," she hissed. "If you want me to genuinely consider your offer, you might want to change your tactics. And if you _ever_ speak to me in such a way again, I will_ skin_ you alive."

"I wouldn't threaten me, if I were you," he warned.

"And I wouldn't underestimate me," she countered boldly. "You may think you have me figured out, but you can't even begin to fathom who or what I am or what I'm capable of. Azazeal made the mistake of underestimating me once. I see he failed to mention how _that _turned out for him."

Lailah could see by the look in his eyes that he had no idea what she was talking about, so she released him from her grip – a little rougher than was necessary – and took a step back, putting some space between them.

"So it's a date, then?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

She rolled her eyes and instead of replying, vanished with a blinding flash of light.

When the light dissipated and he found himself alone on the terrace with Myra, he cleared his throat and straightened his jacket.

"I suppose that's a 'yes,' then," and he began to pick the broken glass from the shattered window off his sleeves.

"Master, are you all right?" Myra asked, her face full of concern.

"Of course I am," he assured her. "She's not at full power – that much is obvious. She's been away from home for too long. Although," and he popped his neck and jaw, "she does still pack a good punch. I like a woman with spirit. They're so much more fun to break." He glanced over at the witch. "Did you get what you needed?"

"Her mind is carefully guarded. I could not infiltrate her walls without risking detection," Myra explained. "However, your mention of the angel stone has piqued her interest. I do believe she means to look for it herself."

"Excellent. With her knowledge and the heavenly resources at her disposal, we may actually have a chance of finding this thing."

"But how will you know how far along she's progressed once she starts her search for it? She's not foolish enough to tell you."

"True. Which is precisely why, when the time is right, I'll send someone else to get that information from her."

Myra followed his train of thought and smiled.

"Azazeal."

Dracula nodded in confirmation.

"His hatred for the angels runs deep, and though his feelings for Lailah are genuine – or at least what's left of his feelings for her – he's narcissistic enough to count her as collateral damage for his overarching goal," Dracula explained. "Yes, he will be of much use to me, when the time comes."

"Master? Why did you tell her you had seen Azazeal's intimate memories of her when you have not?"

"I wanted to see what she'd do."

"You mustn't push her too hard, my lord," Myra insisted. "She may be weak from being trapped here on earth for so long, but I sensed a great fierceness, a darkness in her that she keeps buried deep. If you are not careful, you could become the unintended target of such rage and I fear what would happen to you."

"Nothing she could do to me can compare to the pain and the loss I have already experienced, Myra," he assured her, though he could tell the witch was still uneasy. He offered her a gentle smile and took her chin in his hand, leading her eyes to his. "We will deal with the angel, you and I together. She is no match for us both."

Myra's features softened considerably and she nodded her head.

"Yes, master."

"Now then, I better go find someone to fix this window – unless, you could…" and before he could even finish his sentence, with a wave of Myra's hand, the window repaired itself before their eyes and the vampire smiled on, clearly pleased. "Thank you, my dear."

The witch then excused herself, leaving the Count alone with his thoughts on the terrace before he sensed a familiar presence lurking in the shadows.

"Henrik, I have a job for you," Dracula called out as the burly warrior emerged from the darkness, his face stern, lips pressed into a thin line. "Do you know where the Istovar cathedral is located? That old church in the devil's district?" Henrik nodded. "I need you to pay a little visit to the area surrounding that building – and remind dear Ana, if you find her, that she is not as safe as she may think."

A ferocious and almost demonic looking grin marred Henrik's features as his eyes blackened and his teeth began to extend in his mouth. Dracula looked on, apparently unaffected by the frightful transformation of his greatest warrior who howled up at the night sky, the noise calling his small group of brutish hybrid warriors who answered his battle cry by howling back at him from down below.

With a flick of Dracula's wrist, Henrik was dismissed, and he leapt over the edge of the terrace, sliding down the rooftop with ease before disappearing into the night with six or seven men behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>So? What'd you think?! I'd love to hear your thoughts! <strong>

**I'm in the process of getting ready to move right now, so things are super crazy for me, especially with the holidays in full swing, family in town, so much going on! But I wanted to take a moment (as this may be my last update of 2014) to thank those of you who have taken the time to read, follow, favorite, and review. I know you guys hear this all the time and it may seem disingenuous, but I'm perfectly serious when I say that your support and your approval means the world to me. I sacrifice so much and pour so much of myself into what I write these days because I not only want to be better, but I feel you all deserve something of quality. Granted, that quality may be called into question on occasion as I am not perfect (yet!), but I do try and I'm grateful that so many of you see that. **

**So thank you. **

**Now, I know a few of you would love another _Ink on a Page _teaser. The editing process is still well underway (never thought it would take so long!) but I was thinking - once I hit the 100 review mark on _this_ story, I'll post another teaser. Will that suffice? We're already half-way!  
><strong>

**Naturally it's up to you guys - and you'll be reading the story come next year anyway. Just figured I'd throw that out there. **

**And now, some thank yous to those who have reviewed already: **

Shawny.a  
>Scarlet Empress<br>invisible reader  
>ForeverACharmedOne<br>Angel of Beauty  
>Guest<br>Darling Empress  
>the countess<br>Angels in Parachutes  
>Elle<br>She-Devil Red  
>VAMPFAN666<p>

**And another huge thank you to those that have favorited this story:**

Shawny.a  
>Scarlet Empress<br>WhisperedxNothingsx  
>ForeverACharmedOne<br>4everapotterheadbro  
>Angels in Parachutes<br>Luvisnotenough

**You guys are the BEST! Thank you for making the latter part of my year and I look forward to all the adventures of 2015! Like finishing this story, putting _Ink on a Page_ out into the world again, and working vigorously on cleaning up and making some serious headway on _Eternal Night_ (maybe even finishing it! Though that'd be crazy ambitious of me...). But I sincerely hope that all of you will still be here so you can come along for that ride! **

**Alright, enough of this absurdly long author's note. Go review! I'll see you next time! **

**-T**


	9. Chapter 9

**The muse and his legion of minion plot bunnies have laid siege against me and one of the conditions of my surrender was that I give you this chapter now instead of next week. His nibs can be so persuasive... and demanding. **

**ENJOY!**

* * *

><p><em><strong>IX <strong>_

Ana had always loved the sharp scratch of the short whiskers on David's face against her skin, whether it be against her own contrastingly smooth cheek, along her neck, or, especially, against the delicate suppleness of her inner thigh. Just the thought of his mouth and tongue kissing the deepest part of her made the vampire uncharacteristically warm as her lover continued to ravish her mouth with hot kisses, his fingers tangled in her gently curled hair as the peach pie she had been making earlier was long forgotten.

Ana had known David since she was a young girl of barely twelve, he just two years older than she. At the time, she had still been human and so full of life, whereas he had been a young werewolf, eager to prove himself. The two were inseparable then, and even more so now, despite all that had transpired in the last two decades of their lives.

David didn't care that Ana was now a vampire. He didn't care that she had given herself to Dracula and had born his child. All he cared about was her safety and her happiness, and all he knew was that being with her made him incredibly happy – nothing else compared. In fact, living those two years without her, when Dracula had kidnapped and seduced her, were the hardest years he had ever known. Ana was his beacon, his light in the darkness, his truth in a sea of lies, his sanity in a world of madness.

He would never tire of kissing her, he thought to himself as he pressed himself harder against her, eagerly devouring her tongue and reeling at the scent of her arousal that was so potent in the air, he could feel it soaking into his flesh. He wanted nothing more than to smell of her, to have her taste forever lingering on his tongue and it made his lips more greedy and his hands all the more eager as he ran one palm over the swell of a breast and the other over her buttocks, his finger tracing along the seam of her pants before dipping down and under where he could feel the heat between her thighs increasing with every second.

Ana's lips parted in a breathlessness that made him heady with desire and he watched with deep satisfaction as the fangs in her mouth began to protrude from behind her lips as his hand moved over her hip before resting between her thighs where he rubbed two of his fingers against the seam of her crotch.

His eyes glowed yellow as his own insatiable hunger began to grow, his heart pounding furiously in his head. Ana bit her lower lip as she held onto him.

"David, Lailah is going to kill you if you don't go and check the perimeter," she panted rather unconvincingly. "You were supposed to go out over an hour ago."

"But I'd much rather be here with you," he husked, his forehead resting against hers as his fingers pressed more firmly against her, soon replacing the digits with the entirety of his palm. "Oh woman, what you do to me," he groaned, moving his hand away from the searing heat between her thighs and smoothing a molten path up to her neck where he held the column gently in his grip. He pulled her head towards his and kissed her again, loving how she seemed to go limp in his hold. "I want to ravish you."

"If you hurry back, you can," she promised him in heady tones, taking the lobe of his ear in her mouth. "But you better hurry, because if you leave me in this state for too long, I'll have to do something about it myself."

There was nothing subtle in her tone and just the thought of finding Ana taking her personal pleasure into her own hands made him hard and achy and his fingers hooked behind the waist of her pants as if he were contemplating taking her here and now in the kitchen instead of making sure they were still safe while Lailah was out.

But they were shortly interrupted by the sound of a young and familiar voice.

"Mom?" Eva called from down the hall. "Mom, do you know how long Aunt Lailah is going to be gone?" and the young girl appeared in the doorway, sending her mother and adopted father peculiar looks when she noticed how mussed up Ana's hair was and how flushed David's cheeks were.

They were standing on opposite sides of the kitchen, but it was clear they hadn't been just moments ago.

"Was this one of those times when I probably should have knocked first?" Eva asked carefully. David chuckled as Ana cleared her throat, struggling to regain her composure.

"It almost was, dear. Don't worry about it," Ana insisted, sending David a look that the young girl noted but did not understand.

"I thought you left an hour ago?" the child said to David this time, as he ran his fingers through his hair in an effort to smooth out the mess.

"Your mother was distracting me."

"I was not!" Ana nearly shouted as her lover laughed, quickly heading towards the door.

"We will finish this conversation later," he promised her, pointing at her, his eyes full of meaning, before he patted Eva on the head and was out the door. When he was gone, Ana let out a sigh before turning her attention over to her daughter who was watching her rather expectantly.

"Are you bored, sweetheart?" Ana asked and Eva groaned dramatically, hanging onto the frame of the door and leaning back.

"Oh my god, yes!" she exclaimed. "I want to get out of this stupid house. Mom, I literally can't remember the last time I went outside, or played with kids my own age. Do I even _know_ kids my own age?"

Ana laughed.

"I know, hon. It's been hard on all of us being cooped up in here for so long. Maybe when Lailah gets back, we can head out into town for a bit."

"Really?"

"Why don't you go see if Freya's finished closing up? Lailah should be home soon."

Eva, thrilled at the prospect of a change of scenery, was out of the kitchen in a flash. She was about to run out into the open part of the bar when she heard voices she didn't recognize. The years of conditioning had her staying hidden in the hall, peaking her head around the corner only when she was certain she wouldn't be seen.

Freya was behind the bar, as was her usual. The toned muscles of her slender arms were noticeable as she wiped down the counter in a methodical and rather agitated manner, speaking in low tones to two women who were seated opposite her at the bar.

The eldest was a tall and slim looking woman, her long hair the color of silver and pulled back into a high ponytail, her clearly aged skin soft in appearance, despite the lines of experience that marked her brow, eyes, and cheeks. Yet she was beautiful, dressed in a black snake-skin dress with a high collar and short sleeves, large black hoop earrings completing the ensemble.

The woman beside her was comparatively younger, though still older than Freya, with full, burgundy colored hair and skin so pale and eyes so blue, Eva thought she was a vampire at first, yet it was clear the two visitors were mortal – or at least human – for she could hear their hearts beating steadily in their chests.

"Freya, please reconsider," the older woman insisted, leaning forward. "The coven grows weaker every year we're trapped in this city. Without the chance to return to nature to restore and rejuvenate ourselves, our powers will continue to fade. _Your _powers will fade."

"Actually, Rowan, I've never felt more powerful," Freya answered simply. "Leaving your coven was the best decision I ever made. I didn't regret it then, and I certainly don't regret it now. Unlike the rest of you, I was born to magic. I'm sorry, but I will not help you. Going up against Myra is suicide. She'd kill us all in a heartbeat if she felt threatened."

"Not if you stood with us," the younger woman said, and she reached out, placing her slender hand on top of Freya's. Freya stopped her vigorous scrubbing of the counter and stared at their joined hands with an expression Eva did not understand – it was full of pain and memories – so many memories. "You are a de Winter, Freya – the last de Winter. The curse on this city is rooted in sacrificial magic, yes, but it is also rooted in blood – your blood. De Winter blood. All we would need is the right spell at the right moment. We could put an end to Dracula's tyranny once and for all."

Freya looked up and into the woman's bright blue eyes.

"Rebekah."

The name came out in a long sigh, a world of feeling in her voice.

"Please, Freya. We need you. _I_ need you."

The witch held Freya's gaze for some time, the silence between them poignant and though Eva had never seen either of these women before, she could tell there was great history between them and it made her curious. She almost expected Freya to relent, to agree to help, but she never did. Instead, she pulled her hand away from Rebekah's carefully, her gaze cast down.

"Where were you when I need _your_ help?" she asked the visitors, an ache in her voice that appeared to slice through the heart of them. "Where were you when I came and begged the coven to help me, to help Myra? You abandoned her when she needed you most. You were supposed to protect her, supposed to keep her safe. You were supposed to keep both of us safe, and you abandoned us and you have the gall to come here and ask me for _my _help?" she asked, her voice increasing in volume as her temper got the better of her.

Freya slammed the rag she had been holding down onto the counter.

"No," she snapped. "No, I will not help you! Not after what you did."

"Freya, please," Rowan began, but when they saw the look in Freya's eyes, they shrank and immediately backed down.

"Get out of my bar," Freya hissed venomously, each word emphasized, her voice full of barely restrained rage, something Eva had never witnessed in the woman before and it frightened her somewhat.

It was clear Rebekah wanted to press the subject further, but Rowan wisely placed her hand on the woman's shoulder and shook her head. The two excused themselves, offered an apology that Eva did not understand the purpose of, and then they were gone.

"Who were they?" Eva asked when the coast was clear, her presence causing Freya to jump in surprise.

"What are you doing, lurking in the shadows?" the witch asked, but the girl knew the woman well enough to know she was trying to change the subject, and she may have been a child, but she was no fool. Growing up around nothing but adults had made her more mature than most her age.

"Who were they?" she repeated. "Are they witches?"

"Yes," Freya answered, although a little bit hesitantly.

"Old friends?" she asked, climbing up one of the bar stools so she could sit on the counter.

"They used to be, a long time ago. Long before you were born."

"What did they want?"

"You are just full of questions tonight, aren't you?"

"I have nothing to do," Eva answered simply. "And most of the people that come in here are quiet strangers who get so bored with us, they never seem to come back."

"We get regulars!" Freya insisted, but Eva laughed.

"No we don't, Aunt Freya. We're lucky if we get one or two people in here."

"It's better than being stuck with the lot of you all the time," she muttered, but when she noticed the hurt look in the child's eyes, the bitterness in her eyes softened. "Oh no, Eva, I didn't mean it like that. It's just…"

Freya sighed heavily, tossing the rag onto the counter before lifting herself up so she could sit beside her.

"Before this whole mess with Dracula and the angels and everyone trying to kill us, there was a strong witch community in the city that I used to be a part of. I've spent most of my days living a very social life, so being locked up in here for the last ten years – it's been really hard. Yes, your mom and dad and you, and even Lailah, have been wonderful and you guys are like family to me and I would do anything for you. But sometimes we get so wrapped up in helping others, we forget to take care of ourselves, and for me, being around people – whether friend or stranger – it helps me to recharge. Despite all of our differences, we are all, or at least were, all human at one point and humans are naturally social creatures."

"So why don't you rejoin your old coven? It's clear they want you back."

Freya's smile was suddenly full of sadness as she squeezed Eva's smaller hand with hers.

"Oh child, if only it were that simple."

"Why did they apologize to you? What did they do?"

Before Freya could answer, the sound of the city's sirens could suddenly be heard, piercing through the silence of the night in the otherwise quiet streets outside of the bar and the girls turned to look at the door, both tuning their ears to the sound. Ana appeared in the hall, having heard the sirens as well and a look of trepidation began to mar her features.

"Is Lailah back?" she asked, doing her best to keep her voice level and calm, though Freya quickly recognized the rapidly growing panic that was caught in the vampire's throat.

"No," she answered quietly, continuing to watch the door. The sirens seemed to grow louder with each passing moment, soon coupled with the sounds of screams that Eva figured were just a couple of blocks away.

"We weren't due for another search until next week," Ana said.

"Well, looks like they changed up the schedule."

The back door flew open and the three females jumped in surprise, Freya quickly pulling Eva off the counter and behind the bar instinctively until they realized it was David who had just joined them. Ana moved in to embrace him and he held her tightly, panting heavily as if he had just run for his very life.

"Where's Lailah?" he asked, looking to Freya. The witch shook her head.

"She's still not back."

"Damn it!"

"What's going on out there? Another search?"

"Worse," he said. "Brutes." Ana felt her heart plummet into her belly and suddenly ill with worry. "They're checking every door they find," he explained, "abandoned building or otherwise. The leader among them is asking where Ana is."

Ana, pale with terror, covered her mouth.

"He's coming for me."

It was more a statement than a question and Eva, hearing the fear in her mother's voice, made a move to go to her when they suddenly heard shouting just outside the door.

"What about this one?" they heard a gruff voice shout.

Ana opened her mouth to call out for Eva, but David quickly put his hands over her lips to silence her as Freya motioned to one of the larger cupboards beneath the bar and pointed for the child to get inside. Eva crawled in just in time as the front door flew open before Freya could turn off the "open" sign, which would have reestablished the barrier surrounding the bar – but she wasn't fast enough.

David carefully shoved Ana into the shadows and out of sight, before blocking the arched entrance to the hall with his body, leaning as casually as he could against the archway as Freya began to buff the bar.

There were three of them that came in through the front door – hybrids from the look and smell of it, but darker and more foul than anything in Dracula's regular standing army. His brute force was something else entirely – a powerful bunch to be reckoned with, more like barbaric mercenaries than soldiers.

The Count only ever set them loose upon the city if he wanted to prove a point.

It was clear this point was for Ana.

The leader of the trio was a tall man, a towering figure with long brown hair that was scraggly and unkempt, his leathers worn, his skin littered with battle scars – with a long sword on his hip and a battle axe strapped to his back. David instantly recognized the man as Henrik – one of the most lethal warriors to ever exist under Dracula's command. A man most only knew by reputation only – and what a reputation. The other two beside him weren't as terrifying to behold, but they were still fearsome.

"We're closed," Freya said as evenly as she could. "You'll have to come back tomorrow."

"That's funny," Henrik replied, and he turned to point at the illuminated sign in the window. "It says you're open."

"Yes, but you'll notice our hours posted on the door," she replied, not a trace of fear in her eyes as she met his gaze boldly. "I'm certain you can read, good sir."

Henrik, with a swiftness that was unreal, unsheathed a knife from his waist and slammed it down on the bar, right between Freya's fingers, pinning the rag to the counter. She quickly recovered from the surprise and met his gaze again.

"I'm no good, and I'm no sir," Henrik replied, allowing his eyes to roam leisurely over her body before resting on the soft swell of cleavage that erupted from the front of her tank-top. "Now be a good wench and pour me and my men a drink, and we'll be on our merry way… or I'll be taking more than just a shot of whisky from you. Understand?" and he allowed the tips of his jagged fangs to show from behind his lips in an effort to intimidate her.

"I said we're closed, _sir_," Freya repeated boldly.

A low growl coming from David interrupted the tense looks the hybrid and the witch were exchanging and Henrik chuckled, clearly unmoved by the threat of danger.

"Your measly little mutt is no match for three hybrids, pet. Best to tell your dog to stand down before he gets hurt."

"See, now there's your greatest mistake," Freya replied, leaning over so she could distract him with a better view of her décolletage, "thinking I need him to protect me."

In a bold move Henrik had not anticipated, Freya grabbed the handle of his knife, pulled it out of the counter and then swiftly slammed it back down again. The blade sliced right through his wrist, pinning him to the bar and she used her magic to push the blade deep into the thick wood.

Simultaneously, David morphed into his wolf form, diving for the brute closest to him, his powerful jaws clamping on the man's arm. Henrik swung his free fist towards Freya's face, but she leaned back just in time, his knuckles barely grazing the side of her jaw. She instinctively reacted by stretching her hand forward as power expelled from the center of her palm with such a force, it sent Henrik's head snapping back and the third brute went flying out the door at just the right angle so when his head hit the frame, it came clean off, killing him instantly.

David and the other remaining brute tore viciously at one another, all teeth and deadly claws, tearing flesh and sending blood spraying about the floor before the torn skin healed itself. Although David's blows were powerful, he was nothing to the massive brute who had both the power of a werewolf and the agility of a vampire. But David took every hit that came at him, no matter how hard.

Unable to bear the sight of her lover taking such a beating, Ana swallowed her fear and let out an unearthly roar as she partially shifted into her beast form, unable to change completely due to the tiny space. Yet a single blow of her sharp talons to the brute's chest was enough to distract him momentarily, giving David the opportunity to get behind him and leap onto his back, burying his teeth into the man's neck and shoulder.

Meanwhile, Freya, having run out of luck, had taken a horrible blow to the side of her face which sent her flying back into the glass shelves of bottles which rained down on top of her, slicing open her skin as she watched Henrik pull the knife from his wrist. The blood from the ruptured arteries in his wrist gushed like a fountain that poured all over the surface of the bar before his skin healed. His eyes were full of fury as he licked his own gore off the blade.

"You shouldn't have done that, dearie," Henrik growled, climbing on top of the bar counter.

Freya stretched out her hand once again and the shattered glass that surrounded her went flying in his direction like a wave, slicing his skin to ribbons and distracting him enough so he lost his footing and fell backwards.

Furious, he pulled out his axe and swung down onto the bar, the power of the blow sending the blade straight through the wood as if it were a soft cheese. Eva let out a scream from within the cupboard, Henrik's axe having missed her by mere inches. The sound of her cry caused a moments distraction for Ana, who turned in the direction of her daughter, only to be pummeled by a terrible blow of a table which had been swung at her face and the impact sent her skidding across the room.

David shouted her name, which caught Henrik's attention and he turned in the direction of Ana who managed to thrust the table off of her and into the wall, the wood exploding into a hundred splinters.

Henrik sent his knife slicing through the air where it landed in David's chest, just grazing his heart. David cried out as the silver-plated steel burned and he reached for the hilt of the blade only to be thrown across the room by the other brute.

"Well, well, well," Henrik exclaimed with terrifying glee. "If it isn't the master's little whore," and he looked in Ana's direction. "Which means this little cupboard mouse must be his brat," and he raised his axe to slice through the bar once again, only this time on Eva's head, when an invisible force sent him careening out of the bar through a window and into the street.

Freya stood, a wind with an unknown source blowing about her as her eyes blackened and power radiated from her.

"You will not touch her!" she shouted, floating up over the counter.

Freya floated down onto the floor on the other side and began to walk towards the open door, the sirens still blaring through the streets. With a wave of her hands, the splinters and broken pieces of furniture from inside came flying out of the humble establishment and she had them rain down onto Henrik, watching as the objects impaled his flesh each time he tried to stand.

The distraction was just what David needed to pull the blade from his chest and sneak up behind the remaining brute that had pinned Ana to the floor. He grabbed the brute's head and with all the rage that was in him, he tore off his opponent's head, the powerful blow causing the brute's blood to spray all over Ana.

Their eyes met and a single moment of absolute relief washed over the two of them.

"Mom?" Eva called out, emerging from the rubble that had once been the bar. Ana reached out her arms and the child ran into her mother's ready embrace, until David interrupted the moment, remembering Freya.

They stood in the doorway and watched the witch as she muttered dark spells that contorted and brutalized Henrik, but with each dose of pain she sent his way, he continued to struggle against her. The sky above them began to darken as Freya pulled her power from the earth, the veins in her hands and arms growing black and visible beneath the pallor of her skin as the wooden shards of the broken furniture impaled Henrik again and again and again until at last, he collapsed onto his side and fell still.

Freya finally allowed her hands to fall to her sides as she made her way over to the unconscious brute, his body littered with large pieces of wood, the stench of his blood potent. Convinced he was no more, Freya moved closer to examine the body.

Thinking the worst was over, David took Ana into his arms and held her close, but it was Eva who watched on, observing Henrik's body closely and from a safe distance. It was when she saw something glisten in his hand that she realized the danger Freya was in and she screamed.

"Freya! Look out!"

The warning came a second too late, however, as Henrik rolled over, knife in hand. He swung the blade into the air with every intention of gutting the witch, but the child's warning, though late, had been just enough to give Freya the chance to move back – but not far enough. The edge of the blade slid across her stomach, slicing open her belly, not too deep to completely disembowel her, but deep enough to be fatal.

Freya felt all the air leave her lungs in a sharp rush as the pain overwhelmed her senses all at once, knocking the breath right out of her. Her hand instinctively clutched at her stomach to check the damage, and that's when she felt the sticky warmth of her blood pushing it's way between her fingers as she fell to the ground. The pain was unlike anything she had experienced before and in that instant, all she could hear was the beating of her own heart in her head – and the sound of Eva screaming as though she were far off in the distance.

The child ran out into the street, tears of anger in her eyes and her fangs lengthened as she felt her wings expand out of her back. All Eva could see was red, but before she could get too far, David caught her by the ankle, swinging her roughly into Ana who wrapped her arms around the child to restrain her.

Eva watched in horror as her world seemed to move in slow motion. Henrik had removed his battle-axe from his back and he lifted it into the air, ready to bring it crashing down onto Freya who lay there helpless and bleeding out. David began to shift into his werewolf form as he desperately ran into the street, but Eva could see he would never make it in time. He was too far away and the sharp blade of the axe seemed to grow ever closer to Freya's face.

And then there was a light - a blinding light, brighter than the sun, brighter than anything Eva had ever seen.

It filled the street and momentarily blinded the girl and she covered her eyes. When the light dissipated, Henrik was on his back, farther down the block, and Lailah stood at the other end, Freya between them. Eva felt her heart soar at the sight of the angel as an insurmountable amount of hope overwhelmed her tiny little body and tears began to pour from her eyes.

"David, get Freya out of here," the angel said, her voice calm and her eyes fixed on Henrik who was at the other end of the street, struggling to get himself up onto his feet. David lifted Freya into his arms and quickly moved her inside with Ana following after him, but Eva stayed in the doorway, watching in awe as Lailah stalked towards Henrik, who had his sword in one hand and his axe in the other, ready for battle.

Lailah, though stoic and terrifyingly calm on the outside, was a boiling inferno of barely containable rage within, her eyes dark with anger. Henrik would not have come here of all places of his own free will.

This had Dracula's handiwork written all over it and it infuriated her. He had some nerve, swearing that Ana, Eva, and the others would be safe if she agreed to meet with him, only to send out a small band of mercenaries to terrorize the very people he promised to leave alone.

Oh, she would have words with him tomorrow – that much was certain.

But she had a fire and a fury in her that needed to be unleashed and Henrik, who was shouting obscenities at her, egging her on – he was the perfect one to let it all out on.

"Come on!" he shouted, gripping the hilt of his sword and his axe tightly, readying his stance as she continued to approach, one calm step at a time. "Come on, you angel bitch!"

Lailah never said a word.

She merely extended her hand as she continued to approach and Henrik felt his insides seize suddenly. As she grew nearer, she gradually began to close her outstretched hand into a tight fist, the action sending a searing pain rippling through his body, yet still he held his ground. She opened her hand again, and the pain intensified. He could feel the bones in his hands fracturing, up his fingers into his palms, through his wrists, the bone shattering like glass under too much weight.

The intensity of the pain made him cry out and he dropped his weapons to the ground as the bones of his arms began to break next, the popping sound loud when the breaks reached his humerus, sickening to hear.

She was a mere six feet from him now and when she clenched her fist once more, he felt each one of his ribs snap in half, one at a time and Henrik fell to his knees as he fought the scream that tore at his throat. He refused to give her the satisfaction, but Lailah was not one accustomed to being refused what she wanted, especially when she was angry.

Eva watched from the doorway as Lailah reached out rather suddenly and took Henrik's head in both of her hands, light emanating from her palms as her thumbs dug into his temples and the hybrid let out a gut-wrenching scream of complete and utter agony as if his head was under an immense, crushing pressure. Lailah slipped into the blackness of his mind and began to search for his memories of this street and his interactions with Freya, Ana, Eva, and David. When she found what she was looking for, she plucked the memories out of his head and obliterated them, replacing them with emptiness and a never-ending pain, in case Dracula's witch ever tried to retrieve those memories or even traces of them.

When her work was done, the light in her hands disappeared and she released his head, watching with mild disinterest as he collapsed unconscious at her feet. Lailah bent down and grabbed a fistful of his hair so she could lift his ear closer to her lips.

"If I _ever_ see you down here again, I _will_ kill you," she promised before throwing his head back to the ground.

Lailah then stood gracefully and with a wave of her hand, his body disappeared from the street, where it would later reappear at the front steps of Dracula's palace.

The angel, having not used so much of her power in so long, was suddenly lightheaded as she felt something wet and a little cold running down her upper lip from her nose. Lailah reached up to wipe whatever it was away only to discover blood on her fingertips. She stared at the crimson liquid in silence, immediately suppressing the panic that was swelling in her chest.

She'd have to be more careful, she thought to herself, and she quickly wiped the rest away before turning to see Eva still standing in the doorway to the bar.

The little girl, with her wide, electric blue eyes and long, dark hair, looked like a female miniature of her father, the Count, for just a split moment, and that seemed to snap her back into the present. Lailah moved out of the street, her pace brisk and stride long as she quickly made her way over to Eva who looked like she was in shock.

Immediately moving down to her knees so she could be on the same eye level as the girl, Lailah grabbed the child by the arms and looked into her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

It took her a moment, but Eva finally nodded, which seemed to be enough for Lailah as she turned her head to look inside the bar where she found a trail of Freya's blood leading inside and into the back hall. Grabbing Eva's hand, Lailah quickly led the child inside before she used her power to barricade the door with what was left of the furniture before following the blood-stained path to the kitchen.

Eva and Lailah discovered Freya sprawled out on the island counter in the center of the kitchen, Ana desperately trying to stop Freya's bleeding by pressing a blood-soaked towel to her stomach while simultaneously attempting to suppress the bloodlust that was pounding violently in her head.

The young girl felt it too, but she was still in too much shock at the sight of all the blood and the terror from earlier to move. David was on the other side of the island, his hands pressed over Ana's as they both tried to keep the witch intact. She had grown deathly pale, a cold sweat having broken out over her body as silent tears of breathtaking pain continued to move through her in waves.

"Don't you die on me," David kept saying. "You are not allowed to leave me, Freya! I forbid it!"

Lailah watched the man as he struggled to keep himself together, fighting back the tears that were clearly welling in his eyes.

"David, don't be ridiculous," Freya managed, though speaking turned out to be just as painful as breathing. It's amazing how many muscles in the torso move and contract each time her lungs drew in air, she thought to herself.

Still pressing down on the wound with one hand, David took his other arm and carefully wrapped it underneath Freya's head in an effort to make her more comfortable.

"It was him, wasn't it?" the witch whispered. "The one who killed your father?"

"Yes," David said, blinking the tears away.

"I'm sorry I didn't kill him. And now he's going to take me away, too, it seems."

"N-no," David choked, clearing his throat as he pressed harder on her abdomen, desperate to stop the blood from pouring out of her, but it kept coming, pooling around her and dripping over the edge of the counter.

He knew Ana shouldn't be in here, surrounded by so much blood, but he couldn't bring himself to think of that now. All he could see was the life slowly draining out of Freya's eyes and his heart began to break at the thought of the girl he had loved like a sister for so many years fading before him – and there was nothing he could do.

He could hear her heart slowing through his heightened senses as she started to slip out of consciousness and he shook her.

"Freya – Freya, no…"

"Freya, sweetie, wake up," Ana pleaded. "Wake up, Freya!"

But the witch's heart stopped, and though her eyes were still open, David and Ana watched in horror as the light left her heterochromatic eyes.

David buried his face in the woman's neck as the tears fell from his eyes and the silent sobs shook his upper body. Ana moved her blood soaked hands from the wound and took Freya's lifeless hand in hers, kissing it reverently.

Lailah watched on in silence, still unknown to the pair in the kitchen and she felt her heart break.

How could she have let this happen?

She had to fix it – she wanted to fix it.

But she had used so much of her powers already, and without being able to return to heaven to rejuvenate her long-overdue and undercharged batteries, bringing someone back from the dead was a risky thing. Especially when she had another meeting with Dracula tomorrow evening and she had no idea when she'd see Raphael again.

But when Eva's small hand grabbed onto hers, she knew what she had to do. She didn't have to see the child's tear-filled gaze to know.

Lailah gave Eva's hand a reassuring squeeze before she released it, entering the kitchen and making her way over to the lifeless Freya as David held his wife, the two silent as they watched the angel gently caress a lock of hair out of the witch's face. She never said anything – merely hovered her hand over Freya's heart as a beautiful light began to glow from her palm and she moved it slowly down Freya's front, careful not to touch her.

When her hand finally made it to the open gash in the woman's abdomen, they all watched as the skin stitched itself back together, leaving nothing but a thin and barely noticeable scar in its place.

Lailah could feel her nose begin to bleed again, her head pounding like a tribal drum, but she kept her hand hovered over Freya, slowly moving it back up to her heart as her mind reached through a heavenly veil for Freya's soul before thrusting it back down into her body. The impact was intense and it nearly knocked Lailah off her feet as Freya suddenly gasped for air, her heart beating in her chest again as life poured back into her.

The light quickly faded from Lailah's palm as she stumbled back a bit, leaning against one of the counters for support as they all watched Freya sit up. The tension in the air lifted as David, Ana, and Eva tackled the witch with fervent hugs and tear-stained kisses, welcoming her back to the land of the living. Though Freya was clearly pleased to be alive, her gaze soon met Lailah's amidst the commotion and a look of knowing past between them. The witch opened her mouth to say something, but Lailah held up her hand, as if to say, "not right now," and the witch nodded in silent understanding.

"Lailah, your nose is bleeding," Ana pointed out and the angel felt all eyes fall on her as she reached up to wipe the dark crimson away.

"I'm fine," she assured them with a convincing smile. "Is everyone okay?" There were nods all around and the angel sighed in relief, still gripping the counter behind her for support. "Damn, I'm starving. Is there anything to eat around here?" she asked, making her way over to the fridge.

Within fifteen minutes, the counter had been cleaned and sterilized of all blood and soon they were sitting around the island, Ana's peach pie from earlier as the offering in the center. Eva and Ana both were drinking from blood bags as they all told Lailah the tale of their visit from the brutes.

"Well, rest assured, I will be having more than words with the Count tomorrow about this evening's festivities," Lailah concluded when the tale was over.

"I hope you gut him and see how he likes it," David muttered angrily.

"He'll wish I had gutted him when I'm done," she assured him.

"I still can't believe you agreed to meet with him tomorrow," Ana replied. "And for dinner, of all things?"

"He is determined to woo me," the angel explained with a degree of disinterest. "I told him if he left you alone, he was more than welcome to try. But after this evening's stunt, he's going to have one hell of a time."

"What did he want from you, exactly?" David asked.

"He's wants to try and convince me to abandon the side of heaven for his side of the board."

"What do you get in return, if you did in fact agree to that?"

"You better not, by the way," Freya said with a smile.

"Oh, I have no desire to join him. Dracula only acts in his own interest. If it doesn't benefit him, he won't budge an inch. However, he did manage to sweeten the deal which makes it more tempting than I'd care to admit."

"What did he offer you?"

"Your freedom," Lailah said, looking at Ana. "And Eva's, and David's. He also told me about this ancient artifact called the angel stone, or the _petram de lumen_."

"What is it?"

"The legend says that it is one of the jewels that used to garnish the Holy Grail. Each jewel held a specific power. The _petram de lumen_ is said to possess a power greater than that of the archangels of the highest order, and with powerful enough magic and under the right conditions, that power can be transferred to a single being – or, as Dracula proposed, shared between two persons."

"He wants to share that power with you?" Ana clarified.

"That's what he said."

"You don't believe him, do you?"

"Of course not. But the fact that he and the witch are looking for it makes it a new priority. We need to find it before he does." There were silent nods of agreement. "Also, we're going to need to reduce the radius of the protection spell to just this area," she added. "My power against his witch is not what it used to be."

"I think that would be wise," Freya agreed. "It's better to strengthen a smaller space than to spread ourselves thin. I can add my own reinforcements to this upper level before we retire for the evening."

"I'd appreciate that. So, I think we're all in agreement that we could use some new ground rules after tonight?"

"I think it's safe to say we're officially closed for business," Freya replied, finishing Lailah's thought before she could even speak it. The angel nodded her head in confirmation. "Anything else of interest happen on this _date with the devil_?"

"Not really – although, I did learn the witch's name. Perhaps that could be of use to us?"

"Who is it?" Eva asked, unaware of the looks that were suddenly passing between David, Ana, and Freya.

"Her name is Myra," Lailah said, and she noted the downcast expressions on the other adults' faces. "Though I gather the three of you already knew that."

There was a moment of tense silence between them and David was the first to break it.

"I confess, I had my suspicions, but I wasn't certain."

"No, but you two knew," Lailah replied, glancing over at Freya and Ana who were exchanging knowing looks. "Who is she?"

"Myra de Winter was my sister," Freya finally said, unable to meet Lailah's gaze.

"Was?" Lailah repeated. "Forgive me, but she seemed very much alive to me."

"Myra has been dead to me since the day she abandoned me for Count Dracula," the witch answered with a note of bitterness as she stood abruptly. "And that's all I'm going to say on the subject. I'll get to work on reinforcing the protection spell," and she exited the room without another word. It wasn't long after that the rest of them left to head down below for the evening to get some much needed rest.

* * *

><p>When everyone was safely secured in their rooms, Lailah finally made her way down the hall to her own private chambers. Comforted by the silence and the dimly lit atmosphere, Lailah absently shut the door behind her and began to undress.<p>

Her mind was light-years away as she changed into her thin nightgown and sat on top of her bed, her back pressed against the cool oak of the headboard. She stared blankly at the wall for the next several hours, her mind far, far away.

So far away, in fact, she never did hear the sound of a child's footsteps coming from the hall outside of her bedroom door. She also never saw the door open, not even out of the corner of her eye, for she was lost, deeply immersed in memories that, until this evening, had been long forgotten – of an endless blue summer sky, towering peaks of the Carpathian mountains, lush grass that covered rolling hills, and a woods she had once called home nestled like a river of dark green between the knolls.

She could see him in her mind's eye, that young man of twenty-four, with his dark hair and captivating eyes, so full of love and life and light and all he could see was her.

Lailah closed her eyes, focusing all of her energy on the memory, not just the sights, but the smell of the grass, the heat of the sun on her skin, the taste of his mouth as his lips pressed ardently against hers, both of them so inexperienced, yet so in love it hardly mattered.

She remembered his eager hands, his fingers tangled in her hair, his body pressed against hers as their souls slowly became knitted together with every kiss and tender caress that passed between them.

Lailah felt her heart swell in her chest in fond memory of what had been until the sound of Eva calling her name broke the spell and sent her hurdling back into the cold and harsh reality of the present.

The child was standing in the doorway, dressed in a nightgown and her dark, curly hair slightly matted on one side as if she had been sleeping rather restlessly up until now. Her eyes were pink from what looked like crying and Lailah, forgetting the pleasantness of the long-forgotten memories she had been revisiting, called out to the girl.

"Oh sweetheart," she said with a sorrowful, knowing sigh. "You had another nightmare, didn't you?"

Eva seemed relieved that she didn't have to explain herself and the genuine look of concern in Lailah's eyes sent the child weeping again, big tears streaming down her face as she responded to the angel's silent beckoning by running over to the bed and collapsing in the woman's arms. It had been a long time since she had seen Eva so upset after having one of her usual dreams and she held the girl tightly to her in an effort to soothe her.

"My dear, you need to calm yourself," Lailah insisted. "You'll make yourself ill if you carry on like this." Eva tried to do as she was told, taking deep, laborious breaths as the angel caressed her hair, gently untangling her curls. "Was it the same dream as before?"

Eva nodded silently, but after a moment, she sat up, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "This one was different from the others, though," she explained, scooting up on the bed so she could sit beside Lailah who wrapped an arm around her shoulders, continuing to hold the girl close.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lailah asked, not wishing to press the child to revisit what had only moments ago upset her so.

Eva sighed, her voice catching on the sob she was bravely trying to push back down her throat, and having Lailah present seemed to help as the tears stopped and she glanced down at her hand in Lailah's, the angel sweetly caressing her knuckles with her thumb.

"The beginning is the same as before," the child began. "I'm in a cemetery, it seems to go on for miles in every direction. The sun is setting and there's no one there except for me and thousands of tombstones. I walk for some time, reading the names on the graves, when I start to come across names I recognize – mom, dad, and Aunt Freya. At the end of the aisle, there's the large mausoleum with Dracula's name carved into the black stone and the statue of the veiled angel, blocking the door as if to keep something inside. The statue was pointing at the set of stairs off to the side, as usual, and the stairs seemed to climb up into the sky. I start to climb the stairs when I notice the angel is no longer in front of the mausoleum and I can hear the ground shaking down below as something starts to pound against the sealed door."

Lailah felt Eva shudder at the memory and she wrapped her arm more tightly around the girl in an effort to console her. Having the angel there seemed to give the child courage as she continued, her voice trembling in fear as she recalled the things she had seen.

"The door to the tomb suddenly bursts open and there's a fountain of blood that seems to just erupt from down below. It gets everywhere, soaking the graves, swallowing them up until the graveyard is like an ocean and it's starting to climb up the stairs. I try to move faster up the stairs, but my feet are so heavy. The blood reaches my feet and it wraps around my ankles like vines and it starts to drag me down the stairs. I grab onto one of the steps and try to hold on and I'm screaming for help but no one is there. And that's normally when I wake up. But this time… it just kept going."

"What did you see?"

"There's a little island in the ocean of blood with a single grave. I always use to wonder where the angel statue disappeared to, but it was there, lying in front of the grave, broken into a hundred pieces."

"That's disconcerting," Lailah admitted. "Do you remember anything else?"

"After I notice the broken statue by the grave, the ground begins to shake again and the grave breaks open and this blinding light comes out of the ground and shoots high up into the air carrying what looks like some kind of bird or winged-creature up into the sky and when it expands its wings, they're so big, they block out the sun. And just before I can fall into the whirlpool of blood below me, I wake up."

When Eva had finished recounting her dream, silence filled the room as the two mulled over what had been shared, allowing it to settle in the air for a while. Lailah could feel the remnants of darkness from Eva's dream as they lingered in the room like ominous shadows.

"It was only a dream," Lailah said at last, though even she didn't believe the words coming out of her mouth.

Eva had been having the same, or at least very similar, dreams since she was very young, and with every year that passed, they seemed to become more detailed and more portentous. And though Lailah dismissed their significance often for the sake of the young girl, she could not ignore these new details and the feeling of foreboding they left weighing on her shoulders.

"You've just been reading too much, is all. And perhaps listening in on too many conversations about Count Dracula as well," the angel added with a knowing smile. "And I'm certain the events from earlier this evening didn't help."

"Maybe you're right," Eva relented with a sigh, finally starting to feel at peace again and she eased into Lailah, her eyes fluttering shut.

"Of course I'm right," the angel teased. "Although an unmarked grave with a winged creature erupting from the ground – that's definitely new."

"I never said the grave was unmarked."

"I thought you did?"

"No – it had a name or some word engraved into the stone."

"What did it say?"

"Helle."

Eva was already starting to slip back to sleep in Lailah's arms when she uttered the name, missing the brief moment of recognition and horror that flashed across Lailah's face as it dawned on her what, or better _who_, Eva's reoccurring dreams were referring to. She had had her suspicions for some time now, but the latest development confirmed it.

Her mind shot back to the fateful evening Eva had been born, the prophecy, the vision she had had just before she delivered Eva into the world. Her brain started making connections, startling connections with what her decision to save this child had put in motion, and – more unsettling – what was to come.

Lailah could feel the tears of realization burning in her eyes and she quickly and stealthily flicked them away, forcing a smile on her face so when she spoke, the trembling in her voice wouldn't alarm Eva.

"Helle?" she said at last. "I wonder what that could mean."

"I think I remember reading somewhere that the name means 'holy' or 'blessed,'" Eva answered sleepily, eyes still closed. "Maybe it's the name of the bird that was going to try and save me and I just woke up before it could."

"Maybe," Lailah answered, trying to make her voice sound stronger than how she was feeling in that moment. "Go back to sleep, then, my sweet. And finish the dream. Dream of that bird flying down to save you. Imagine being carried up into the sky, the wind in your hair and the sun on your face…" and she gently continued to caress Eva's hair as she leaned her head back against the headboard of the bed, closing her own eyes as another tear escaped between her lashes and ran down her cheek. "Maybe that bird will save us. Maybe she'll save us all," she whispered.


	10. Chapter 10

**I apologize in advance for this chapter being rather lengthy. Not as long as it was before the massive undertaking of edits and such, but still, if you struggle with the longer ones, best grab snacks or something. **

**Forgive the errors and, as always, enjoy! **

* * *

><p><em><strong>X<strong>_

The soft burn of candlelight bathed the restaurant floor in an almost sensuous glow as the sound of tinkling crystal and a sumptuous soundtrack of the piano and cello on the stage caressed the senses. The Count was seated in a private section on the second floor of the establishment, close enough so the beautiful music could be heard, but at a sufficient space to make the place secluded. The table was situated beside a balcony that overlooked the main part of the restaurant down below and it was there the Count stood, his eyes scanning the crowd as a curvaceous lounge singer leaned up against the piano and crooned into the microphone, the jewels encrusted into her slinky red dress catching the light. Behind him, the wall of the second floor was made up of an enormous window that provided a gorgeous view of the city skyline, the light of the moon washing over the floor.

The Count glanced down at the pocket-watch in his hand.

Lailah was fifteen minutes late.

He sighed impatiently when he heard the waiter come up from behind for the fifth time since he had arrived this evening.

"What is it now?" he snapped, turning around so he could send the waiter a malicious glare when he noticed Lailah standing behind him as well and his features instantly softened as his eyes fell on her.

The angel looked positively radiant, her golden locks curled and cascading down her back in a luxurious mass of softness, ears studded with diamonds that glistened when they caught the light, and naked legs that seemed to go on for days. As usual, she wore black, the skirt of her dress ruched and wrapped – and short, the slit in the front revealing just a hint of lower inner thigh.

"Never mind," the Count said with a charming smile. "I see you have my date with you. Bring us a bottle of your best champagne, please."

The waiter nodded in acknowledgement and was about to excuse himself when Lailah revealed from behind her back what appeared to be a bottle of dark red wine.

"Actually, I hope you don't mind. I brought a bit of a peace offering in apology for my behavior yesterday evening," she said with a hint of coyness that he found rather pleasing. "I should not have overreacted as I had."

"No, it is I who should be apologizing to you," he insisted. "I wanted to get a rise out of you and I should not have – not so early in our acquaintance, anyway," he added with a mischievous glint in his eye and he accepted the offered bottle, the tips of his fingers lightly caressing her own. "This is very generous of you."

He nodded to the waiter who silently removed himself, leaving the two alone. The Count graciously motioned for Lailah to take a seat at the table and when he made sure she was comfortable, he joined her.

"I apologize for being late as well," Lailah added as he took his seat across from her. "I was unsure what kind of vintage to get and the wine merchant went on and on about that one, so hopefully it's to your taste."

He examined the label, his eyes widening in surprise.

"This is a very expensive wine."

"Money is no object with me," she assured him.

That seemed to satisfy him and he uncorked the bottle and poured a glass for her and then for himself. He inhaled the aroma, a pleased smile curving his lips as he raised his glass to her in approval.

"To you, my dear, and your exquisite taste."

Lailah smiled flirtatiously and raised her glass to him in acknowledgment before bringing the rim of the glass to her lips, but the wine never touched her mouth as she watched with a devious sense of triumph as the Count drank deeply from his glass, before placing it down on the table with a smile that began to fade when he noticed the wicked expression in the angel's eyes.

"What is it?"

"Did you, by any chance, send Henrik and his men to pay Ana a visit after I left last night?"

The Count suddenly felt a strange pressure that started in his chest and moved up into his throat. His first reaction was to deny her accusation, but he could feel the truth hanging on the tip of his tongue and he quickly realized what she had done.

The look he gave her was positively foul, but she merely smiled in response, unmoved by his wrath.

"The longer you keep the truth in, Count, the more painful this will be for you. I would have preferred to pull it out of you myself – a special gift I have – but Freya wanted to send you her _personal_ compliments. And, well, considering Henrik nearly killed her last night, I could not refuse her the opportunity. She's a talented little witch."

Dracula gripped the edge of the table, preparing to stand, but with a wave of Lailah's finger, he found he could not lift himself and the pressure that weighed on his chest became unbearable, as if someone had taken his heart in their hands and was squeezing the life out of it.

"But back to my question, Vlad – you don't mind if I call you _Vlad_, do you?" she hummed. "Did you give the order?"

"Yes."

The word was expelled from his lips with a rush of air and his iron grip on the edge of the table laxed dramatically as the pain instantly ceased and relief washed over his face.

"Why did you do it?" was her next question. When he refused to answer, he felt that unbearable pressure on his chest and throat again.

This was intolerable!

He could hardly believe he was being forced to endure such treatment from this insolent woman and the fact that he had walked so willingly and so blindly into her web, and within the first five minutes of their meeting, infuriated him further. When she saw that he refused to answer, she sighed dramatically, dumping the wine from her glass into the tray of ice that was resting on a stand beside the table.

"Come now, Count. If you expect me to seriously consider your offer, I'm going to need to trust you. And since you clearly refuse to be open and upfront with me on your own, think of this as me _helping_ you."

Oh, how he wanted to smack that brazen smirk off of her pretty little face, but it was clear that wasn't going to happen.

_Fine_, he thought angrily to himself. _She can have this round, but the next one is mine!_

"I sent Henrik not to harm her. I just wanted to frighten her, remind her that she is not as safe as she thinks and that her act of defiance and betrayal will not remain unpunished."

"You are rather sadistic, aren't you?"

"Only when I'm crossed," he said, his eyes full of promise.

"Oh I have no doubt of that," she said, leaning forward in her seat, her voice low, tone mildly suggestive. "And what will you do to me, once you have your tongue back?"

"I haven't decided," he answered truthfully. "But I have no intention on letting this little stint of yours slide, Lailah. I promise you that."

"Then I better be on my guard, then," she replied.

The waiter arrived with food the Count had ordered before her arrival and then left them to eat their meal in peace. After several moments of self-satisfied silence (at least on her side), Lailah decided to let the real fun begin.

"So tell me about yourself, Vladislaus," she encouraged, leaning back in her plush chair.

"What would you like to know, since clearly I have no choice in the matter," he answered resentfully.

"Tell me about your life as a human – before you became a vampire."

"I was born in a village of no consequence in the mountains of Transylvania in 1422…"

"No, no, no… not the boring stuff. I already know all that. Tell me something that isn't in the history books."

"Like what?"

"Tell me why you hate Valerious the Elder so much."

"He killed my wife."

"I thought Erzsébet leapt from a window and killed herself?"

"She did. But that wasn't the wife I was referring to."

"But the books said you only had one wife."

"You shouldn't believe everything you read."

"What was her name? This first mystery wife?"

"I never said she was my first," he said, albeit a little warily, but she dismissed his suspicions with a wave of her hand.

"A lucky guess."

"I really don't want to talk about this, Lailah," he said and for the first time since she had met him, Lailah saw fear in the Count's eyes. But she would not be swayed and she met his pleading look with a hard glare.

Dracula was accustomed to having his way and getting away with things no man, in Lailah's mind, should get away with. He had consistently underestimated her, always so convinced that he held the superior hand, but he was about to discover – the hard way – that this angel, in her own way, was a force to be reckoned with.

"What was her name, Vladislaus?"

"Helle. Her name was Helle."

He spoke the name with a notable degree of reverence, longing, and an exquisite agony that moved Lailah a great deal more than she had anticipated. It was clear the name caused him pain and she was determined to make him explain why.

"What makes you think Valerious killed her?" she asked carefully.

"Because he disapproved of our union and I refused to ever marry another so long as she lived. She was poor, not of the usual stock, and I was nobility and as his prince and at the time his heir, he did not want my line tainted with what he deemed common blood."

"How did she die?" she asked, despite the evident discomfort this conversation brought him. She sympathized with him, but her desire for the truth, and maybe even revenge, grossly outweighed her pity.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice hushed so no one would overhear him begging. "Ask me anything, but don't ask me about her."

"How did Helle die, Vladislaus?" Lailah pressed firmly.

He tried to suppress the truth, but the agony caused by Freya's spell was stronger than his threshold for the physical pain he was being forced to endure. If they were in private, he would have resisted harder, perhaps. But they were in public – with several hundred of his noblest subjects seated below. They couldn't see their king being played by an angel like a marionette doll.

"I found her in a small cave near a hidden spring she and I often met at when we were younger," he finally said, his voice curt. "The physicians said her heart appeared to have just stopped. They found no traces of blood or poison on her, but they were Valerious' physicians – they could have told me anything he wanted them to tell me."

"Perhaps her heart did give out," Lailah offered. "Did you ever stop to consider that maybe Valerious was innocent?"

Dracula's expression went from utter despair to a hellish rage as if something had snapped within him.

"He was never innocent!" he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "Valerious only cared about his family name and a pure bloodline. Nothing more! He tolerated my relationship with Helle when I was a boy, and threatened me on countless occasions to break off my ties with her. But I refused, and when he found out I had married her in secret, he threatened to take everything from me. And Valerious the Elder was always a man of his word."

Dracula's impassioned speech weighed heavily in the air as Lailah allowed the silence to reign for a moment or two before asking her next question.

"Did you love her?" she asked him.

The look in his eyes said it all and though it was clear his words intrigued her, the angel was impossible to read - all cold indignation and moral rigidity.

"With my whole soul," he answered, sounding as if his heart were breaking in his chest all over again. "She was the only good thing in my life. Understand this, Lailah, I have been fond of, and have even loved, countless women in my time – but never in the way that I loved Helle. She was always the best part of me, my better half. Since the day she was taken from me, I have fought desperately to fill the void her absence has left in me. I've tried _everything_, and nothing has ever come close."

After he said the words, a look of astonishment marred the features of his face and it was clear to Lailah that he had never before spoken those words aloud until this very moment. She could see in his eyes how vulnerable and humiliated he felt and how uncomfortable it all made him. The hardness in her expression softened slightly in response to his plight, as if a part of her, long forgotten, understood the pain he felt, the pain he had carried alone for so long.

"I am sorry for your loss, Vladislaus" she said, the words sounding far more poignant than he had expected from her, and it made him curious – as if she were apologizing not for his loss or for forcing him to open up like he was, but for something else entirely. But he could feel the sincerity of her apology and though a part of him wished to begrudge her for "poisoning" him, he was strangely grateful for not her pity, but the understanding he saw hidden in her eyes.

There was no notable judgment in her expression, no mockery. He had never talked about Helle to anyone before, at least in this kind of detail, and though the process was painful, in a strange sort of way, with Lailah sitting across from him, the experience felt somewhat cathartic – and he could not resent her for that, as much as he wanted to.

"What was she like?" Lailah then asked, her voice filled with gentle curiosity.

"She was sunshine itself," he admitted, gradually relaxing in his seat now, oddly comforted by her presence and for reasons he could not account for. "Lightly tanned skin from always being out of doors, with long, bright, curly blonde hair and deep blue eyes that were framed by gorgeous dark lashes. She was a wild one – so exuberant and ardent and full of life. Her father had been a noble through birth, so her blood wasn't completely common as Valerious always insisted. Her father had married her mother against his parent's wishes and he was cut off without a penny to his name. He was the most honorable of men, all ideals, that one, and after I lost Helle, I realized that although ideals are nice, they are unrealistic in the world we live in. The world is harsh and unforgiving and if you want to make anything of yourself, you have to be harsh and unforgiving right back."

"That sounds like a Valerious philosophy," Lailah pointed out and the Count, bewilderingly at ease, even chuckled a bit.

"Perhaps it is."

"How did you meet her? This Helle? Did she ever meet your parents?"

"My parents were dead before our paths ever crossed. My father sold me to the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire when I was a small child, along with my brother, Radu. He was killed when I was thirteen, and I lost Radu shortly thereafter. Valerious was the one that saved me and brought me home – only to leave me again so he could defend the country's borders. That's when I met Helle."

"How old was she?"

"Eight years old, I believe – though unlike any child, or girl for that matter, that I had ever met. She was clearly of a lowly station. That much was evident in her manner of dress and unreserved playfulness. But she was also extremely bright and clever, and she had no tolerance for my brutish sense of superiority," and he chuckled to himself, recalling a memory. "She didn't care if I was a prince, but she didn't want me treating her like she was a lesser human being, either."

"Smart girl," was all Lailah said and Dracula smiled fondly, staring down at the table, lost in a reverie.

"She saved me from myself," he said quietly. "So many times. Valerious would drill into my head what I was and what was expected of me, but Helle kept me balanced. I remember one time, I had taken her out riding after one of my lessons. She was twelve at the time, and I was a fresh boy of seventeen – barely a man, though I was convinced I was one. I lost Valerious' prize stallion to a group of gypsies and Valerious was ready to skin me alive, but Helle talked him down. I'll never forget it – she was all charm and grace and serenity – like some kind of noble lady. In the end, her words saved my hide and even soothed Valerious, who could not bring himself to punish her for my mistake. I never looked at her the same after that afternoon."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean up until that point, Helle had always been like a little sister to me – my confidant and best friend. After that, my feelings stopped being platonic. As I watched her calm my step-father, I started to see her for what she was – a beautiful, intelligent young lady who knew exactly who she was."

"And at twelve years of age, no less."

"Things were very different back then," Dracula explained. "Girls her age were often in the process of either becoming betrothed or getting married, at least the ones of nobler stock. A girl became a woman at a much younger age in that time, just as boys were expected to become men younger."

"I'm sure a lot of that has to do with the life expectancy."

"I suppose."

"Did you tell Helle how you felt?"

"Not explicitly, no – and I suppose that was because I didn't fully understand my feelings for her. I promised her that I would never forget what she had done, but she just teased me and insisted that when I returned a war hero and had a harem of wealthy ladies throwing themselves at me, that I'd forget all about her."

"And did you forget about her?" Lailah asked with a smile, as if she already knew the answer.

"Not a day went by in those following five years that I did not think of her," he said gently. "She was my rock, my foundation when I left home with Valerious to go to war against the Turks. She wrote to me every week while I was away – which, now that I think about it was a bit odd considering her upbringing. But she had always been particularly bright and her father gave her whatever she wished. I was the one that started the correspondence, at first because I wanted to prove to her that I wouldn't forget her, but after a time, I found myself looking forward to her letters. I was able to tell her about the war and what I had seen and I didn't have to spare details. She never reproached me and when I did try to hold back information, she always knew I was."

"Seems she knew you very well."

"She did."

"I believe it was around this time you met Gabriel – or as he was known, Van Helsing?" she offered, noting the hint of disapproval that flashed in his eyes at the mention of the archangel.

"Yes – I believe he had already fallen from grace at that time?"

"As far as I know, yes."

"I always found that nickname of his peculiar. I believe it was a Dutch name, loosely translating to 'the application of hell' – rather ironic, really."

"Indeed. Did you tell Helle of Van Helsing?"

"Of course I did. At the time, Gabriel Van Helsing was nothing more than a whispered myth – a heaven-blessed warrior that would come to the aid of men in times of horrible war and conflict and he'd fight for the side of God and truth and righteousness and all of that nonsense. Valerious had him summoned by the Knights of the Holy Order in Rome. I can still remember that grand entrance of his – how he rode in on a white steed, dressed in glittering armor that shone in the evening sun. He saved my life on several occasions during that particular campaign. There was also a time when I was so taken with him, my admiration so great, that I even considered joining him and the Knights of the Holy Order to crusade throughout the world and fight the injustices of evil. Can you imagine?" and he laughed as if embarrassed. "Oh, how naïve I was!"

"What did Helle think of him?"

"You know, that's the curious thing," Dracula said, a slight look of pensiveness in his eyes. "She appeared to approve of him, but I always felt she was reserved during conversations about him – as if there was something Helle knew about Gabriel that she wasn't telling me."

"That is peculiar. So when did you get to see Helle again?"

"I was twenty-two, I believe, when I got the letter from her saying her mother had died," he explained with a new sense of solemnity. "She didn't even tell me her mother had been ill and I came to find out later that she had hidden that from me because she did not wish to alarm me. The instant I received her letter, I begged Valerious to let me go to her so I could comfort her, but he forbade it, saying that though my sympathies with the common folk were commendable, I needed to guard myself because people would start to think I had intentions towards Helle that were contrary to my birthright."

"Heaven forbid."

"I was furious," Dracula explained. "I vented to Gabriel and explained my whole history with Helle and after listening to me rant for a good hour, he offered to cover for me so I could return home for a few days and visit her and her father in their hour of need."

"That was very noble of him."

"Yes, it was. There was once a time when Gabriel and I were genuinely good friends," Dracula replied, a hint of remorse in his voice. "Before our differences, he really was one of the best men I had ever known. A pity he turned out to be a hypocritical brute."

Lailah said nothing on this front, but instead turned the conversation back to the Count's narrative.

"So what happened when you came home, after being away for… was it five years? That would make Helle seventeen, I believe."

"Yes."

"And was she much altered since you had last seen her?"

"I almost didn't recognize her when I arrived home," Dracula confessed, his eyes filled with pleasure at the memory. "When I had left for war, she was still in many ways a young girl, but when I returned home she was a woman – all softness and delicate curves. I had never felt so awkward in all my life. She was still the same Helle, but she wasn't – she was this goddess in rags and I had never felt the kind of deep sexual attraction for any woman that I had felt for her during that visit. The devil... why am I even telling you this?" he abruptly interjected, embarrassed at how much he had revealed and the angel laughed quietly.

"I'd apologize for making you uncomfortable, Count, but I am not sorry. Please continue."

"Lailah, please..."

"As much as I love the idea of you begging, I really must insist. It's for your own good, Vlad. Now, what else about Helle had changed when you saw her again?"

The Count grumbled an oath behind gritted teeth before continuing - and with some strain on his part as the words seem to tumble from his lips without thought or control-

"She was far more trusting of me, so full of approbation and esteem; it left me paralyzed. I spent as much time with her as I could, but her father was always nearby. On my last night, they had me over for dinner in their little cottage which was on our land, and I made her father a promise that they would want for nothing as long as I lived. Her father tried to refuse me, but I insisted that they at least let me do what I could for them for the time being and after some convincing, he relented."

Dracula paused in his narration, a look of soberness in his eyes.

"He called me an honorable man, you know," he continued, suddenly moved. "That was the first time anyone had called me that. He told me that my father – my real father, whom he had been acquainted with all those years ago, would have been proud of me and that he hoped Valerious would someday feel the same."

"Helle's father sounds like a very good man," was all Lailah could think to say and she watched as a look of remorse flashed in the vampire's eyes.

"He was the best of men."

"So you said that was your last evening at home. What happened next?"

"I left early the following morning, but left Helle in the stables with a kiss she had not expected. I think if I hadn't left immediately after, she would have slapped me. I was gone for another year after that and I wrote to her as often as I could until Valerious informed me that we were returning home. I was ecstatic, as I had every intention of proposing to Helle the instant I returned, but Valerious then informed me that I was to be betrothed to another."

"Did you fight it?"

"Of course I fought it! I fought Valerious the whole way home and racked my brain for some scheme that would allow me to get out of my responsibilities so I could be with Helle in a way that was at least honorable. But by the time we arrived home, I had no plan and I felt hopeless, despite the fanfare and the welcome I received upon my return."

"When did you see Helle again?"

"At a feast. She had been called in to assist the help. My eyes found her the instant she entered the room, but before I could approach her, my father was already shoving Erzsébet into my path and her family was overjoyed at the prospect of our union."

"Your first bride as a vampire – Verona – wasn't she related to Erzsébet?"

"Yes, she was her cousin. She was at the feast as well, though she was barely seven years old – a child that I had no interest in."

"Was anyone else of note at this feast?"

"Gabriel arrived, rather unexpectedly, actually," Dracula recalled. "I had never been so relieved to see the man in all my life. He announced that he was at my disposal and I put him to work, either distracting Valerious or the family of my future bride. He even kept Helle company as I was forced to take my rounds. When I was done, I returned to Gabriel to fetch Helle so I could actually spend time with her and he told me she had gone home. I wanted to go after her, but it was impossible and I didn't really get the chance to see her, except for in passing, until almost a year later."

"Why did it take you so long?"

"I had received word from one of my servants that Helle's father had died a few months back and I wondered why nobody had told me. I later discovered that Valerious had forbidden any of the servants to speak of it, which naturally infuriated me, so I made up some excuse to return home for a few months, which actually worked out perfectly because Valerious was in Budapest at the time on business, which gave me the perfect escape, as I was on my own. I came home and found Helle was still living in her parent's cottage."

"Was she surprised to see you?" Lailah asked gently.

"I think so – I think she had assumed I had forgotten her, but I never could have. She asked me why I was there and I told her that I had heard about her father and wished to pay my respects. We spoke for several hours after visiting the resting place of her parents. I came to find out that she was living in the house all by herself, which was completely improper for the time and to this day I don't understand how she managed on her own for that long. I told her that I could provide for her, but she insisted that she was fine, as she didn't require much. We walked for what felt like ages, keeping to the old, familiar paths in the woods until we found ourselves in one of our old spots we used to visit as children – a hidden pool with a waterfall that concealed a shallow cave behind it. We ended up reminiscing about our childhood days, when things were simpler."

"I'm getting the impression that something happened following your trip down memory lane that you're trying to keep from me, Vladislaus," Lailah prompted when he had paused his recitation. The carefully visage of nonchalance over a look of hesitance had clearly not escaped her notice.

"Lailah, this is rather private."

"I don't care. I want to hear it. What did you tell her?"

There was a twinge of irritation in his features, but it melted away the longer he spoke.

"I told her the truth – that I loved her, that I had loved her for some time and I could never love anyone else. I told her that I couldn't marry Erzsébet because I could never love her. I told her that every morning when I awoke and every evening when I went to bed, I would think about the kiss we had shared before I had left for war again and that nothing would make me happier than to worship her with kisses until the day I died."

And then the Count rolled his eyes, covering his face as Lailah's mocking smile sealed his humiliation.

"That's so poetic, your grace," she teased.

"I swear, I will get even with you."

"But not tonight," she laughed. "And how did your beloved respond to your rather clichéd and juvenile profession of love?"

"She burst into tears," was his impatient reply.

"Did you offend her?"

"No – though at first I thought I might have. I had never wooed or made love to a woman before and I had no idea what I was doing or saying. I was a child, Lailah. I was inexperienced, naïve... a v..." but then he paused, a look of horror in his eyes when he realized the word that had nearly escaped his lips. He secretly hoped Lailah had had her fill of revenge, but oh how mistaken he was.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" came that playful lilt.

"If we weren't in public right now..." Dracula growled when he felt that painful tightening in his chest again.

"As adorable as your hollow threats are, Vladislaus, there's a word that is just dying to be uttered from your lips and I'm longing to hear the great Count Dracula admit his sexual prowess wasn't as impressive as it supposedly is now."

There was a dark flirtatiousness in the undertones of the angel's words and it made the vampire curious. She was baiting him - but for what purpose?

"So I was a virgin - so what? Aren't we all beginners at some point?"

"Yes, but having heard the _extensive _details regarding your reputation, I find it deeply amusing imagining what a virginal Dracula must have been like."

"Please don't ask me what I think you're going to..."

"How long did you last?"

"I don't remember," he said with a huff. "And I never said that Helle and I..."

"I'm not an idiot, Vladislaus. The two of you slept together, didn't you?"

"Does it matter?" he asked, affronted by her presumptuousness, yet strangely at ease with the entirety of this discussion. Even though a part of him felt degraded by the circumstances, there was still that unaccounted part of him that trusted her... and that disconcerted him far more than the revelation of his past did.

Lailah leaned forward, arms resting on the table, one folded over the other.

"Yes, Vlad, it does. And do you know why?" When he refused to answer, she continued. "Because as humiliating as this is for you, there is a small part of you that needs to let this out. You've never told the truth to anyone and though I'm certain I'm the last person you want to be telling any of this to, you need to remember what it feels like to be vulnerable."

He looked up from his hands that he had been examining with keen interest to find that Lailah had a soft smile on her lips and a strange, knowing look in her eyes that simultaneously bewildered and comforted. There was something about this woman that made him feel like he didn't have nearly as much control as he had initially assumed, as if her very presence had set in motion the erosion of his carefully placed armor and try as he might to frantically keep himself guarded, he was helpless to the supernatural forces that surrounded not only her, but the cursed wine that still settled in his belly.

"Tell me the truth, Vladislaus," she requested gently. He wanted to be angry with her, and though his bruised pride certainly was, on the whole he could not resent her. For reasons he could not entirely explain, Dracula found that he actually kind of wanted to tell her about Helle and the sensation was foreign and strange.

"I did make love to her," he answered simply, "though we were both embarrassingly inexperienced." The admission seemed to appease her and she leaned back in her seat, a silent sign for him to continue. "I had seen other soldiers make love to women, and I had been educated in how sex worked, so I suppose in retrospect, it could have been worse. But after that the rest is history, really. We knew what we had done was sinful – for the time anyway – and I loved her too much to let her be taken by another man, so a short time later I married her in secret, despite Valerious' protestations and threats."

"How did he take that bit of news?"

"Not well. He would send me the occasional angry letter or idle threat, but I never took any of them seriously. Perhaps I should have," Dracula added upon sudden reflection. "I had gone to talk to Valerious one afternoon, almost a year later, leaving Helle – who was with child by then – alone at the house. It was the usual meeting with Valerious. He yelled, threw a tantrum really, and I refused to yield to his wishes. I returned home to find Helle inexplicably agitated afterward, nervous even. But in my foolishness, I didn't think anything of it. I made love to her that night as I always did, but there was something different about that evening, something that, to this day, I can't put my finger on. It was as if she knew something was going to happen and she didn't have the heart to tell me. My last day with her could not have been more perfect. By this point in our relationship, I knew exactly what I was doing. I knew exactly how to pleasure her and she came undone beneath me over and over again and there has never been anything I have seen since that was more beautiful than her eyes in those moments. We fell asleep in each other's arms that night, tangled limbs and sheets, and I hadn't a care in all the world."

It was at this point in the Count's narrative that the blissful look of remembrance soon fell from his face as his eyes grew dark with sorrow and then anger.

"As I mentioned before, Helle went missing the next morning. I searched everywhere for her and even employed Valerious in the hunt, such was my desperation. It took us three days, but I finally discovered her corpse in our cave and my entire world shattered around me. Valerious was sympathetic for maybe twenty-four hours and then he carried on, as he always did. A short time later, I was forced to marry the Countess Erzsébet and even though I knew she was from a good family, timid, obedient, wealthy, beautiful, and accomplished, she was not my Helle."

"Did Erzsébet know about Helle?"

"To a small degree, and mostly due to the idle gossip of the servants, and she was sympathetic, but it was clear she did not approve. Gabriel heard of the news and he tried to help. He encouraged me to try and love Erzsébet, but I could not. For a short spell, I though I found myself growing fond of her and I did try what I could to make her happy, but I could not give myself to her the way I had so freely with Helle. I could tell Helle anything and she'd just sit there and listen to me, always looking into my eyes when I spoke and always so wise in her judgments and her advice. There was no timidity in her, no sense of shyness. Erzsébet was like a bashful, naïve child in comparison. For all of her schooling and social graces, she was ignorant and subservient. The complete opposite of my Helle. And though I grew to appreciate Erzsébet's obedience and trust in me, there were moments when her lack of passion drove me mad. No real man with any sense wants a timid wife."

"That certainly explains your extraordinary taste in women," Lailah said in an attempt to lighten the oppressive mood and it earned her a genuine laugh from the Count.

"Yes. I do have a thing for the difficult ones, don't I?"

"I think you're addicted to the chase, Count."

"How true that is. I have always found the actual process of a conquest to be more exciting than the main event of triumph, though that too is it's own reward. But when the lust is sated and the excitement is gone, often there is nothing left to hold one's interest – and so the hunt for a new chase begins."

"That's because the chase is comprised of tension, the promise of exquisite euphoria with little tastes and teases, which makes finally obtaining the real thing all the more beautiful. The chase is what keeps us yearning. And in an eternal life, which inevitably begins to lack any substantial mystery or anticipation, the beauty of true intimacy is often lost. Most people become bored with the effort it takes to form any real lasting relationships and instead become so consumed with an insatiable need for adrenaline and immediate gratification. There are few who really understand or appreciate the beauty and, in a sense, the exquisite agony of sexual tension and suppression."

Dracula, reaching for his glass, which had since been replaced with fresh blood, watched Lailah carefully as she spoke, not daring to interrupt her moment of genuine and unanticipated honesty as she inadvertently confirmed what Azazeal had already told him.

It gave him some wonderful ideas of how to proceed with her in the future, but he quickly tucked them away and changed the subject as to not raise any suspicion. He was, after all, still under a spell, and could not risk Lailah asking him any additional questions regarding his plans for her.

"So what else would you like to ask me, since my tongue is still at present your slave?"

The way he said the words, along with the suggestively wolfish look in his eyes sent a delightful shiver down Lailah's spine and she began to fiddle with the napkin in her lap in an effort to distract herself from how his gaze was making her feel.

"Let's talk about Gabriel for a bit," she said at last. "So he was fallen at the time the two of you met. If the two of you were such great friends, how did you become such strong enemies?"

Ah – he had been waiting for that question!

Dracula settled more comfortably into his chair.

"You didn't have to curse my tongue to get me to tell you_ that_ story," he teased, taking another sip from his glass.

"Oh, I know," she replied. "I just enjoy watching you squirm."

"I can't wait to get even with you," he said with a slight chuckle and she responded only with a smile. "Before I begin, I'm curious – what have you heard?"

"Not much," she confessed. "As I'm sure you were told, I was with Azazeal for much of that time and wasn't very involved in what happened to Gabriel. I had only heard that he had fallen and that just when they thought he was going to return to grace, something happened that was so terrible that he fell even farther and eventually, over time, lost his memories, which is when I believe your paths had crossed a second time?"

"Correct. But you never wondered why he fell?"

"Of course I did. But no one ever spoke of it and the most I heard was that it had been a long time coming and that his relationship with you was what put him on the path to a longer period of restitution."

"Oh, so it's _my _fault?" he asked with a surprised laugh. "Some things never change, I suppose."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that your beloved archangels always seem to refuse to take responsibility for their own poor choices. There's always a scapegoat – if the devil didn't make them do it, someone else certainly did!"

"That's a little unfair," she protested. "Not all angels are like that."

"If you insist, my dear – but Gabriel certainly is. Tell me, how well did you know him back then?"

"Not very well on a personal level. Before he fell, he helped mentor me for a time, but we were never very close. After he did fall, I heard whispers of things, but they were always kind of vague."

"What kind of things did you hear?"

Lailah shifted a bit in her chair. She didn't like talking so openly about her colleagues like this, especially with someone like Dracula – but, then again, what choice did she have?

"He was a short-tempered man, a ferocious warrior who delighted a little bit too much in conflict, and though devoted to the cause of righteousness, he had been struggling with personal doubts for a while."

"The cause of righteousness, you say? Since when did the glorification of violence and bloodshed become synonymous with righteousness? When did betrayal, deceitfulness, and adultery – all in the name of heaven – become excusable behavior for the left hand of God?"

"I'm sure Gabriel had his reasons."

"His reasons!" the vampire exclaimed. "Gabriel Van Helsing's reasons for doing what he did were his own, of that I have no doubt. I can forgive a man for having doubts in his leaders and the cause he has blindly pursued for most of his life. But the things he did – he had no one to blame but himself for his circumstances."

"Why don't you tell me what happened between the two of you, then," Lailah replied calmly and her voice appeared to soothe his temper somewhat as he took a deep, calming breath before beginning his story.

"You have to understand, Lailah, these were very different times. The Turks had been trying to invade our lands for years and violence seemed to be the only thing they would respond to. I won't lie – in fact, I can't lie, even if I wanted to – I loved tormenting the Turks. I thoroughly enjoyed the heat of battle, the stink of sweat, the taste of blood, the adrenaline and the rage that would pump through my veins every time I swung my sword. I was a different man after Helle's death. I hardened myself to the world because dealing with the pain of her absence was more than I could bear. But it was Gabriel who encouraged me to drown myself in that war. War is a man's province, he would say. He insisted that war and battle turns feeling boys into strong men and that if I wanted to escape the pain I felt with Helle's death, I should immerse myself in the fight against evil – that evil being the Turks. So that's exactly what I did.

"And as much as I hated Valerious, I was desperate to please him, to gain his favor again. Not because I cared what he thought, but because I knew the only way I could have my revenge was if I regained his trust before I took everything from him. Little did I know, my exploits and my methods for protecting my homeland came to disturb not only him, but Gabriel as well. And he just left – when I needed a friend the most. Without his guidance, I'll admit, I took things a little too far, and it wasn't long until Valerious started to fear me. He didn't approve of my display of power through the public maiming and impaling of my enemies. The people feared me, and the more power I obtained, the more Valerious abhorred what I had become, never realizing that it was _he _that created me.

"It wasn't until we had another one of our heated arguments that I blamed him outright for what I was and I told him that I would destroy his entire family – down to his last child – if he tried to stand in my way. That's what sent him to Rome, seeking forgiveness as old men do when they're finally aware of just how mortal they are, and that's when Gabriel came back into the picture. He, apparently, was very close to regaining his standing with heaven, or so I was told, but I didn't care. I had already sold my soul to the devil at this point, having abandoned God the day he refused to give me Helle back."

"What do you mean?"

"After Helle died, I sought out dozens of gypsies, witches, prophets, and sorcerers in an effort to bring her back, even after Erzsébet gave birth to two healthy children. But the result was always the same. Each spell and each ritual ended in failure. I was constantly told again and again that Helle's soul was beyond my reach. Admittedly, I didn't react to the information as well as I could have. Each sorcerer that failed me met the same fate – they were charged with the witchcraft I had coerced them into using and they were brutally tortured and then publicly executed."

"All because they failed to raise the dead?"

"You have to understand, Lailah, I was miserable."

"I do understand that, but that's no excuse for what you did to those innocent people."

"And yet, everyone continues to make excuses for Gabriel. Why are his crimes so much more forgivable than what I have done?"

"What did he do, Count?" Lailah asked with evident patience.

"He fell because he fornicated with a witch in order to learn the details of his future, from what I heard. And, as you have told me, archangels having sexual relations with anyone that isn't an angel is expressly forbidden. He had been paying his dues for almost a century by the time I had first met him and when our paths crossed again, he was close to redemption. The Knights of the Holy Order sent him to Transylvania, and I knew the instant he arrived that he had been sent, more explicitly, by my father to retrieve my head. So I did what any sensible warrior prince would do. I tried to get him to change sides.

"Valerious had started this game and I was determined to beat him at it. So I invited Gabriel into my home, I allowed him to rekindle our friendship, I let him to play with my children, eat at my table, ride into battle with me. I even let him think that he was having a positive influence over me, when all the time it was I who was manipulating him. Over time, I could see the conflict in him as he began to question his quest. I had no idea that the outcome of his quest was to determine the status of his redemption – I thought he had just come, sent from Rome to take care of their 'Vlad the Impaler' problem. I felt betrayed that he would even consider murdering me, so I was determined to either bring him to my side of the board by any means necessary, or I would remove him altogether."

"And what means were those?"

"Every man has a favorite sin, a secret vice they love. Gabriel Van Helsing had two – the first was war. He loved a good fight, something we had in common. The second I discovered quite by accident. He had been a guest in my home for almost five years at this point. Erzsébet and I had become estranged, but I saw the way Gabriel looked at her and how, over time, she too began to look at him. It was almost too perfect. By this point, Valerious had begun to put serious pressure on Gabriel to finish his mission, to murder me. I knew I couldn't trust him, but I needed proof – tangible proof. So I… drove them toward each other."

"How on earth did you manage that?"

"I was bedding one of Erzsébet's ladies in waiting at the time and gave her the tools necessary to open my wife up to the idea of having an affair. She didn't require much persuasion, and when I purposefully went away for an extended weekend, leaving my wife and the man I called friend behind – well, the rest, as they say, is history."

"Did Gabriel love Erzsébet?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. I arrived home early in the middle of the night, making certain Valerious was with me. We found the two of them in my chambers, her legs over his shoulders as he plowed into her like some kind of..."

"I don't need the details, Count," Lailah interrupted, blushing slightly, "just… get to the point."

"Very well. The short version - Valerious was furious and Gabriel was ejected from the house. I had Erzsébet locked away in a tower, denying her requests to see our children. I went away shortly after to deal with a group of Turks that had managed to cross our borders and while I was away, Gabriel returned. I learned after the fact that Valerious had written to him, stating that despite what he had done, the bad blood that ran in me, and in my children as well, was far worse than any crime Gabriel could have committed and that maybe redemption would be easier to obtain if he finished me off, along with my line. He and several knights broke into my house while I was away and they slaughtered every last person in those walls, including my children. Erzsébet was the last one to die, and when Gabriel refused to acknowledge her, she was supposedly so distraught that she flung herself from the window, refusing to be absolved by him before he could drive his sword through her.

"Although I no longer loved Erzsébet, I was still furious when I heard about her death, and the murder of my children. I knew Valerious needed to be stopped, but I was rapidly running out of money and options. Valerious and Gabriel managed to turn my people against me in a matter of months, spreading rumors of how I would hold grand banquets in my castle and then feed my guests the flesh of my enemies, and how I would serve blood instead of wine. I remember hearing tales of wild orgies, or pagan rituals and cultish gatherings where I'd supposedly torture and maim innocent women before brutally raping them to death – all of which were untrue. But Valerious fueled the fire by claiming to be a witness and after Erzsébet killed herself and the rumors spread that she had done so because she could not bear to have her soul knit to mine, my fate was sealed.

"I challenged Gabriel to a duel – the only thing I could do in an effort to salvage what was left of my name, and I lost. Because of an arrangement I made with a gypsy witch, I was resurrected and able to exact my revenge on Valerious, even after he tried banishing me to an icy fortress in the middle of nowhere. But, as they say, the devil had given me wings, and with Gabriel Van Helsing long gone by that point, I focused all of my energy on tormenting Valerious and his ancestors. I don't really know what became of Gabriel between then and when our paths crossed again in 1888. I heard rumors of how his fall and the guilt of what he had done eventually drove him mad, which I suppose would explain the memory loss, but I confess, I never cared. I was too consumed in my pursuit in destroying the Valerious line and preserving my kind."

Dracula paused for a moment to take another sip from his glass and then he sighed heavily as his story came to a close.

"And after centuries of hard work and sacrifice, I finally succeeded in my endeavors – well, mostly. The Valerious line, it would appear, still prevails."

"Thanks to yours truly," Lailah said at last with a bit of a smug grin and she raised her wine glass as if to toast herself.

"Yes, thanks to you," he chuckled, and he lifted his glass of blood to her before taking another drink. "Although, it must have been frustrating for you, trying to keep the Valerious offspring alive with my actively trying to destroy the line you dedicated your existence to preserving."

"Frustrating, yes, but, like you, Count, I do enjoy a challenge."

"Yes. I can imagine how disappointing it is knowing that all that's left of that lineage are the unpromising bastard children of a long-dead legacy."

"Perhaps, but even bastards can be born to greatness," Lailah insisted. "They are the ones that are often underestimated."

"You say that as if you have experience in the matter."

"More experience than you know, Count. I am, after all, technically a bastard myself."

He raised a brow in surprise.

"Is that so?"

"My father was an archangel once. He fell in love with a mortal woman, a witch who also happened to be the wife of a great nomadic warrior. Just because you're born out of wedlock doesn't make you a lesser being."

"Well then, _bastard_," he said with a hint of teasing in his eyes, "I've told you my story. Why don't you tell me yours?"

"There's not much to tell," she replied. "I was born a nephilim, but instead of being raised as a human, I was taken from my mother's breast when I was but three days old and was raised amongst the angels. I rarely saw my father because he was fallen and growing up, I resented him for my circumstances. I had to work twice as hard as everyone else just to prove my worth, and in many ways, I still have to."

"Because you were the result of adultery or because you're a woman?"

"Probably both, if I am being honest with myself."

"Well," and he grabbed the bottle of wine she had brought and offered it to her, "if you need help with honesty, this could aid you in that."

The two soon burst into a fit of genuine laughter that took both of them by surprise.

"That was rather dreadful of me, wasn't it?"

"Well, let's put it this way – I won't be underestimating you again any time soon," he said, placing the bottle back onto the table.

"You're being an awfully good sport about all of this."

"I'd say it's the wine, but I do believe that little curse you put on it is finally wearing off."

"I hope that doesn't mean we're going to go back to being dishonest with one another," she suddenly confessed. He smiled softly.

"Despite this evening's rocky start, I will admit, you are an excellent listener. And, to continue in the vein of being honest, I've rather enjoyed talking with you this evening, even though there were certainly moments when I longed to wring that pretty neck of yours."

"That's not a hint for me to use the door, is it?" Lailah teased.

"Not at all. There is still so much I long to ask you."

"Like what?"

"Like your involvement with preserving the Valerious line. I have to ask – why is heaven so interested in its conservation?"

"They help to maintain balance," she answered simply. "Valerious the Elder may not have been your father, but he was still your blood – your father's cousin or something, if I remember correctly? The two of you are inherently linked together, and because of this, your fates are intertwined."

"I thought you said you didn't believe in fate?" he replied archly.

"I may not believe in a _literal_ fate, but I do believe in karma – or at least the concept of it. And despite your relatively sympathetic origin tale, Count, you still need to answer for all of your poor choices. I suppose you could say the universe has a sense of humor. You blame the Valerious line for what happened to you. Well, it is the Valerious line that will decide your fate. Besides, would you want it to be anyone else? It's rather poetic really."

"That's one way to put it, though I'm not entirely certain I agree."

"Oh, come now, Dracula. Think of how different your life would be now without the Valerious always there to spice things up a bit."

"Spice things up?" he repeated incredulously.

"I have noticed over time that you have a weakness for Valerious women," she said with a laugh and he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I do have a weakness for strong, beautiful women – but the Valerious surname is optional, I assure you."

"Are you so certain of that?" she asked. "Perhaps you're also drawn to that royal blood? Or maybe it's that gypsy fire?"

"No. I've had my share of royalty and they don't make any better lovers than those of common blood."

"Then what do you think it is?"

"You know what I'm drawn to? Really drawn to?" he asked. "Their light."

"Now _that_ I find surprising," Lailah confessed, folding her arms on top of the table so she could lean forward. "I always assumed you relished in darkness."

"Make no mistake, my dear, the roots of evil are deep. Irreversibly so in the hearts of men. It is their true nature, their ultimate destiny. I was once God's most devoted warrior, a champion of light, but I fell. When I lost Helle, I fell into darkness, and now, because of the choices I've made and because an angel of heaven destroyed what was left of my light, I am now feared as the Prince of Darkness. Ironic, don't you think? God and his angels turn their faces from me. Even hell itself is too afraid to slink out of the shadows to challenge me because even they understand what you angels clearly do not – I cannot be controlled. I never could. Let's say you succeed, Lailah. Let's say you manage to convince me to let Eva go and she grows under your tutorage and she fulfills her destiny by destroying me. That won't change anything. Because someone far worse will just take my place. Evil will always prevail. It is the natural order. The world is broken and it has abandoned all hope."

"Do you really believe that?" she asked him, suspicious that the effects of the wine had officially worn away by this point, because she could feel that a part of him didn't entirely believe his own words.

"Experience has taught me nothing else," was his answer. "The truth is, Lailah, you and your angels need me. There would be no purpose for you if evil did not exist. There cannot be light without shadow – there must be opposition in all things, in order for there to be balance. I was chosen to be that shadow. It is not a lot I would have chosen for myself if I had known the cost, but there never really was any other choice. I don't pretend to be something I'm not. I embrace who I am," he said, standing suddenly and he offered her his hand.

"And what are you?" she asked, looking up at him, her hands still folded in her lap.

"Right now, I'm just a man who wishes to dance with you."

Lailah looked at his hand and studied it most critically for a moment. The cliché was not lost on her, although secretly she found the large palm and long fingers before her rather tantalizing. Ignoring her better judgment, she accepted his offer and placed her hand in his, allowing him to help her from her seat before pulling her into his arms, leading her into a slow and simple dance as the singer down below started a new song.

"You know, you should embrace who you are as well," he said.

"Who do you think I am, Count?" she asked, following his lead.

"You're such a champion for free will, Lailah, and yet you remain subservient to not just angels, but to men, when you should be revered as their equal – in _every_ aspect. In power and position."

"Whose to say they don't already treat me as an equal?" she asked him, very conscious of how his hand pressed against her lower back.

"If you were their equal, we wouldn't be here having this conversation right now. You would have escaped this city with Eva and Ana all those years ago, instead of being left here to do nothing but hide as you grow weaker and weaker," was his response, and though she wanted to argue with him, she found that she could not… because a part of her knew that he was right. "If you were their equal, do you really think you would be denied the opportunity for the advancement and the acknowledgement that you are clearly worthy of? I've met my share of angels, Lailah and none of them comes close to you."

"See, now you're just trying to flatter me," she said, dismissing his compliments in an effort to distance herself from him, but he would not be written off so easily.

"That's where you're wrong, my dear," he insisted, pulling her a little closer to him so his chest was pressed against hers, their faces dangerously close. He leaned in slightly, his cleanly shaven face pressed against her cheek as his lips brushed against her ear.

"I see the darkness in you, Lailah," he whispered, his cool breath fanning the side of her neck. "I can feel it pulsing beneath that soft, decadent flesh of yours. You believe so much in the potential of others, yet you don't seem to see that potential in yourself. True power doesn't come from embracing just the light. Ultimate power comes from embracing both sides of our nature – the light and the dark – and obtaining a perfect balance between them both." He turned his head to look at their joined hands and he carefully intertwined their fingers together. "Light cannot exist without the darkness, nor can the darkness exist without the light. You are in a unique position, my dear. You have it in you to master both – a flawless union of two pieces of the same puzzle, one fitting into the other to create a perfect whole."

Lailah unintentionally hung on to every word he uttered. The music, the feeling of his fingers entwined with hers, combined with how close he was to her made Lailah feel heady all of a sudden. He continued to whisper in her ear, promises of power, position, and the respect and admiration he felt she deserved and had been denied for so long.

"You deserve to be worshiped and adored like the queen you are capable of being," he continued, the hand that had been resting on her lower back itching to slide just a little lower.

Dracula couldn't explain why, but in that moment, he felt closer to Lailah than he had to any other woman in a long, _long _time. He yearned for her, not just in the usual sexual sense – though, heaven help him, if they continued to dance like this, she'd probably start to feel just _how_ much – but despite their rocky start to the evening, a part of him was grateful for what she had done. With Lailah in his arms, with her knowing some of his greatest secrets, he felt strangely safe – whole, even; or at least well on his way to becoming so.

And the longer he held her, the more he loved the feeling and it alarmed him.

Fortunately, however, he didn't have to risk being the one to break the spell, for Lailah was the one that finally pulled away.

"I should probably get going," she said, no longer in his arms, though his hand was still holding hers.

She couldn't seem to let go of him. It felt so right, so natural, having his fingers entwined with hers, and it frightened her, the internal acknowledgement compelling her to take a step back so the Count was forced to release her.

"Of course. It is late, and I do believe I have some business to attend to before the evening ends," he answered rather lamely. Lailah nodded in understanding and turned to leave when he called out her name and reached for her wrist to stop her. "Before you go, I'd like to thank you for this evening – cursed wine and all," he added lightly and she smiled, laughter in her eyes. "I'm afraid I won't be able to meet with you again until the following week. I hope that is satisfactory?"

"Of course," she replied. "Will Helena be sending word regarding the meeting place and time?"

"Yes, if that's acceptable?"

"It is."

"Good."

"Well then."

"Well then…"

The two were lost for a moment in the other's eyes, the Count still holding Lailah's wrist as he found himself being pulled into the abyss that was her gaze and for the briefest of moments, he could have sworn he had seen those eyes somewhere else before.

But the ending of the song down below and the gentle applause from the dinner guests interrupted the moment between them as they broke eye contact. Before Lailah could pull away, the Count brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips against her knuckles in such a way that tied her insides into pleasurable knots.

"Good night, Lailah."

"Good night, Count."

She then excused herself, her eyes fixed on the exit as she battled the urge to turn and look back at him. She could feel his gaze on her as she headed toward the door and it took everything in her to keep from stealing a glance in his direction.

When at last she made it outside, the angel gasped for breath as the cold air smacked her flushed cheeks. She could still feel his lips on her hand, the side of his face against hers, and she wiped the back of her hand vigorously against the skirt of her dress, as if to wipe away the tingles he left there, but they wouldn't leave. It was as though she could feel him all over her, leaving her with a horrible ache at the absence of his touch.

_Oh god, help me_, she thought desperately before disappearing into the night.

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><p><strong>Thank you for stopping by! <strong>

**But before you go, if you could leave me a review - good or bad - I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter! **

**Also wanted to give a huge thanks to Scarlet Empress, invisible reader, Shawny.a, and She-Devil Red for consistently reviewing. You guys are seriously the main reason why I keep updating. I know at least four people out there are enjoying this story - thank you for your critiques and words of encouragement! **


	11. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER: there is a minor amount of heavy-ish sexual dialogue near the end of this chapter so if you're afraid of soiling your virgin eyes, proceed at your own risk. It's really not _that _bad, but just in case you're easily offended by that sort of thing - it's all on YOU now if you choose to proceed. **

**A HUGE thank you to invisible reader, She-Devil Red, Scarlet Empress, Shawny.a, Angel of Beauty, IrinaDeLaVega, TheFemaleHistorian, and Angels in Parachutes for your beautiful reviews! Your feedback and words of encouragement helped get me through a rather difficult and occasionally unpleasant week, so thank you for taking the time to not just read, but to leave me a review as well. You guys are just the sweetest and I am so grateful to have such wonderful readers and friends.  
><strong>

**Forgive any errors I may have overlooked and enjoy! **

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><p><em><strong>XI<strong>_

Lailah arrived back home, relieved to find that everyone's evening had been fairly uneventful, as it was spent cleaning up the front area, sealing the main door and windows while straightening up the place so they could still congregate above ground. David, in a fashion that was typical for him, was dressed in little more than his tattered jeans that were in desperate need of either being repaired or thrown out. It was clear, however, that Ana was enjoying the view of his strong and lightly tanned back and torso, the muscles in his arms purposefully flexed as he continued to fix the bar counter. Freya was using her magic to reassemble some chairs while Eva was busy sweeping the floor – though she stopped her work when she noticed Lailah had returned and she gave the angel a hug around the waist.

"So, how did it go? Did he like my gift?" Freya asked with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Lailah pushed her own private concerns to the back of her mind and managed a convincing smile.

"You would have loved the look on his face," Lailah confirmed.

"And was it him? Was he the reason we were attacked last night?" Ana asked. Lailah's expression became a little bit more serious.

"Yes, unfortunately it was. He wanted to intimidate you, Ana, make you feel like you weren't safe. But he understands now that his sadism comes with a cost – one I don't feel he'll be willing to pay again anytime soon." The vampire smiled as David came up, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and she looked significantly relieved. "He's tested our strength, however, and I have no doubt that he'll try to do so again. So we need to continue to be cautious – overly so if need be. In fact, David, I may start joining you on sentry duty."

"I don't mind the company," he confessed.

"Anything else of interest happened?" Freya asked and Lailah noted the peculiar expression in the witch's eyes.

"Nothing worth mentioning," she lied, and though that seemed to satisfy everyone else, for the first time ever, Freya didn't seem convinced. "Now then, I'll leave the rest of you to your renovations, though I'm not entirely certain why you even want to fix up the place. There are plenty of rooms downstairs," and she started to head toward the door that led down below.

"Some of us don't like living underground!" David called out before returning to his work. Lailah tried to get to the door before Freya could catch her, but the witch was faster than her usual self – a woman with a mission.

"Lailah, I need to talk to you about what happened when you brought me back," the witch began, but Lailah dismissed her.

"Not right now, Freya."

"But it's important."

"Can it wait?" the angel pleaded, suddenly very tired and she began to make her way down the stairs.

"Lailah, I know what you're doing!" Freya said a little louder than she had meant and the angel stopped mid-step, turning around slowly to look up at the witch. Seeing that she had her attention, Freya lowered her voice a bit, leaning down into the hall as to not be overheard. "I saw things, Lailah. Things about you."

Lailah was usually well known for her excellent poker face, but in that moment, after the last two evenings she had endured and the whirlwind of confusing emotions that ravaged her mind, it was evident how much Freya's words affected her. The witch saw recognition in the angel's eyes, the sweetness of memory, followed by fear, sadness – and then a harshness that frightened Freya somewhat.

"You know nothing of what you saw," Lailah said, her voice a severe whisper before she turned and disappeared at the end of the steps.

Fortunately, Freya didn't push the topic any further, which allowed Lailah some much-needed time to herself, time she spent soaking in an absurdly hot bath, her knees pulled up to her chest as her eyes stared blankly at the wall. She was immediately lost in her head again – a dangerous place to be – as she replayed her dinner date with the Count over again in her mind, picking up on little nuances she had missed before.

Like the way he looked directly into her eyes when he talked, the way his fingers lightly caressed the stem of his glass when he was thoughtful, or how whenever he talked about Helle, he would absently reach for the ring finger on his left hand and gently touch the skin as if subconsciously searching for a ring that wasn't there.

She could feel the phantom-like remnants of his hand pressed against her lower back from when they had danced, as if his very touch had seared her flesh and it made her shiver. Lailah covered her face with her hands, desperately trying to pry the way he had looked at her out of her mind, but she found she could not and it was as though she could feel his very gaze running all over her skin like a caress and she let out a small whimper of protest.

She couldn't meet with him in a week!

Though grateful she had some time between now and their next encounter so she could prepare herself, her next expected visit from Raphael wouldn't be for another two weeks after and she wasn't sure she had the strength to endure another meeting with Count Dracula. Her will was already beginning to crumble as feelings – familiar, yet so long buried and forgotten – continued to bubble to the forefront of her mind, leaving a terrible ache deep inside of her, a hollowness that she knew only one thing could fill and it was one thing she could never have.

Desperate to not think about Dracula anymore, her mind turned to Azazeal, and her sense of hopeless desperation became that of vengeful anger with just a twinge of concern.

Oh, how she wished she could throttle that fallen angel's gorgeous throat with her bare hands!

He had some serious nerve, talking to Dracula about her, especially after all they had been through together. Though considering how she had left things with him, she couldn't exactly say she wasn't surprised he had chosen to tell the Count about her. And though Dracula was yet to divulge what it was exactly that Azazeal had told him, Lailah's imagination could easily fill in those blanks. There had been moments – usually in the dead of night, when a part of her missed the days and nights she had spent in Azazeal's company, but as of right now she found herself regretting every single one of them.

It was clear Dracula had been made aware about the intimacy of her previous relationship with the fallen angel, and knowing that Azazeal was never one to skimp on the details… Lailah could feel her cheeks redden at the thought. It was bad enough that the Count clearly had every intention on seducing her – and now he had an arsenal of knowledge regarding her tastes, her weaknesses, and those tiny little pressure points that always reduced her to liquid.

Lailah groaned audibly into her hands.

There had been a moment earlier in the evening when her victory over the Count had been assured.

But that victory, it would appear, was to be short lived. The reality of her situation was stark and unnerving as she finally admitted to herself that perhaps when it came to the Prince of Darkness, she really was out of her depth.

* * *

><p><em>One Week Later<em>

Lailah glanced down at the handwritten note once again, making sure the address matched the place in front of her. To her dismay, it did, and her brow furrowed when it dawned on her just where she was. She crumpled the paper before incinerating it in her palm, the ashes blowing onto the street as she looked up, taking in the enormous opera house in front of her. Although the majority of today's society cared more for rock revivals and club music to the classics, because their king had always been an enthusiast for the arts, the Draconia Opera House was easily one of the finest pieces of architecture in the city, second only to the palace.

It was a monstrosity of a building, with the grandeur of Milan's La Scala and the opulence of the Parisian Palais Garnier. Had the circumstances been different, Lailah would have been thrilled to walk the halls of this building, perhaps even listen to an opera, but she knew the Count, and he had promised her a reckoning. So she steeled herself and made the long walk up the front steps where Zane was waiting for her.

He greeted her with a nod of acknowledgement, his dark eyes observing her closely as he held open the door, allowing her to enter first. The building was quiet and dark, save a couple of lights that were turned on. Lailah gently tugged on the popped collar of her mid-length trench coat, the virgin wool cashmere caressing her cheek lightly. There was an unsettling chill to this place that she did not care for.

"My master has wished me to extend his apologies to you. He had a meeting with a member of his council and it appears to be running a little late. The Count wanted me to assure you that he will be here short…"

Zane was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream that echoed excellently through the halls.

The terror in the voice sent a shiver down Lailah's spine, as did the clear snap of what sounded like a neck followed by a terribly unsettling silence. Just when she thought it was over, Zane grabbed her by the arm and pulled her backwards just as a body and its removed head hit the floor at Lailah's feet with a sickening crunch, the remains shortly erupting into a cloud of ash and bone.

"I guess the meeting is adjourned, then," Zane said, though mostly to himself. Lailah, a little startled by the "welcome", sent Dracula's captain a bewildered look.

"I'm assuming that was the council member?" she asked.

"_Was_ being the operative word," Zane replied, nodding as he released her arm. "Forgive me for grabbing you suddenly, madam."

"No, I appreciate it," she replied, craning her head back so she could look up as if to see from where this man may have fallen from. "Where did he fall from? The third floor?"

"An excellent deduction, my dear," she heard the Count say from above and his head appeared from the third-floor balcony that overlooked the grand staircase in front of her. She watched as he leapt up, standing on the balcony's edge before stepping over into the empty space and allowing gravity to pull him down. He landed on his feet like a cat, knees bent, and then he straightened in front of her. "Thank you for being punctual. I trust you come gift-free this time?" he smirked.

"I am a keeper of my word," she said with a smile that was far more effortless than she would have liked.

"I hope you're not offended or suspicious by our meeting place," he said, excusing Zane with a nod of his head before motioning for Lailah to fall into step beside him. "I do recall you mentioning that you were fond of the opera, but if you'd like to go somewhere else, we most certainly can."

"No, this is quite alright," she assured him, slipping her hands into the pockets of her coat.

"You must be wondering why I'm here when the place is clearly closed for the season," he began, and she nodded her head. "The individual that you had the misfortune of nearly being crushed by – I apologize for that – he was a member of the small council I have that helps to run the city."

"What did he do to warrant such a gruesome death?"

"Consorting with an enemy of mine."

"You mean I'm not the only one that doesn't like you?" she teased.

"When you are in a position such as I, you naturally make enemies," he explained. "I've tried to create peace with the werewolf community, for instance, though most of them still wish me dead."

"Not everyone enjoys being ruled," Lailah explained as they made their way up the stairs. "The wolves, for instance, have managed to thrive very well under their own order for ages. Your presence always tends to disrupt that."

"Is it so wrong that I want the people in my city to be unified?"

"Perhaps not, but your ends don't always justify your means, Count."

"Please, call me Vlad," he insisted, much to her surprise. "I normally don't allow such familiarity, but I think it's safe to assume that you and I have an understanding with one another."

"Are you sure it's not because you like the sound of your name on my lips?" she replied flirtatiously to the surprise of both of them and she regretted the words the instant they left her mouth, wondering where on earth they could have come from. He did not tease her for it, however. He merely smiled, a hint of knowing in his eyes.

"Perhaps I do," he said.

"So this council member was consorting with the werewolf community, then?" Lailah asked, eager to change the subject.

"A more rebellious faction of them, yes. He was their informant, but it looks like they'll have to find a new one now."

"So why the opera house?"

"His lover is one of the ensemble members. The company is rehearsing for the new season at present and I was told they met here often between rehearsals and I thought I'd allow the man one last evening with his lover before I ended his life."

"How generous of you," she said with evident sarcasm. "The poor woman is going to be beside herself when she learns what you've done."

"I never said anything about his lover being a woman."

"I keep forgetting – you vampires tend to be more fluid in your sexuality than most."

"Living for an eternity allows one to not be bound by social constructs, like morality," he explained. "Pleasure is pleasure, no matter where it comes from."

"I fear I don't share your tastes, Count."

"Vlad," he corrected her. "And that is understandable. You are an angel of heaven – I would expect nothing less. Though even Gabriel found himself open to the idea at one point," he added with a sly grin.

"I don't believe you."

"Oh, it was a long time ago – before he slept with my wife and then proceeded to murder my children and myself. A drunken evening in a brothel, if I recall the incident correctly."

"With you, I assume?" she said a little incredulously. He laughed.

"Don't look so surprised. I prefer the fairer sex, but am not adverse to the other."

"That shouldn't surprise me, but I confess it does."

"Why is that?"

"Because you don't strike me as the type."

"Appearances can be deceiving. Take you for instance," he began. "I never would have guessed some of the things I've heard about you."

"I really have no desire to have this conversation," Lailah said and he noticed the faint blush in her cheeks.

"Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Frankly, yes, it does," she answered a little harsher than he had expected. "I don't see how any of that is your business and to be perfectly candid, I'm appalled you discussed such things with Azazeal – and at length, apparently."

"And yet you had no qualms forcing private information out of me, despite my own discomfort when last we met," he pointed out with an arched brow and when she pursed her lip into a thin line, he relented. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, my dear," he then assured her with a graciousness and charm that only proceeded to make her more and more uncomfortable. "He had nothing but the highest praise for you, and, I must confess, I was most intrigued by what he had to say. Most angels are so inexperienced and timid and afraid of their natural, most base nature. I was just impressed that you had embraced it at one point."

Lailah groaned an oath and tenderly rubbed the area between her eyes as if to ward of a sudden headache, but despite her evident disapproval of this topic, the Count prodded a little more, amused by the becoming flush appearing in her cheeks.

"Although, I confess myself a bit curious as to where your taste for rough sex stems from..." he continued, but Lailah interrupted him before he could get too far.

"Please, let's not talk about this anymore," she insisted, and, fortunately for her, Dracula finally dropped it.

If there was one thing Azazeal had stressed, it was not to push her when she didn't want to be pushed. She had to be warmed up first and that much was clear to him. So the Count let it go, even apologizing – much to the surprise of Lailah – for his conduct and speech.

When she forgave him, they fell into step with one another again as they wandered the outer portion of the opera house, the muted sound of the rehearsals from within the auditorium serving as background.

"How is Eva?" he eventually asked, his tone gentle. "How is she progressing?"

"She is doing very well," Lailah answered, clearly much more comfortable with this topic.

"I assume you are primarily responsible for her education."

It was more of a statement than a question.

"For the most part, yes, I am," she confirmed.

"And what have you had her study, outside of the usual history, basic sciences, and mathematics?"

"She loves to read," Lailah began. "She devours books on a regular basis."

"Any subjects in particular? I hope you're not having her read just novels. Anything written after the mid-1950s I often found to be extremely disappointing."

"She loves mythology and fairytales. The girl doesn't really care for mathematics, but she does enjoy the sciences."

"Is she especially talented in anything?"

"Sketching. Her attention to detail is extraordinary. I started her on the piano a few years ago. She has a wonderful talent, though she doesn't care for practicing. Eva prefers to enjoy the music rather than create it herself."

As Lailah continued to talk about Eva, the Count noticed how fond this angel was of his child, how relaxed she became as the conversation progressed. Her features softened considerably and there was this beautiful light in her countenance.

They talked of the child for some time, of how lively and animated she was, of her cleverness and wit, and how she seemed to take after her father, a revelation that secretly delighted Dracula more than he cared to admit. He was deeply pleased with how well his daughter appeared to be turning out, and he found that his longing to meet her only increased the more they remained on the subject.

While the conversation on Eva continued, Dracula soon became more at ease as well, and with some careful prying, he managed to get Lailah to open up just a little more to him as she gave him small glimpses into his daughter's life – not just her tastes, passions, and pursuits, but her quirks and personal struggles as well.

Their conversation continued in this vein for some time until Lailah noticed a far off look in the Count's eyes, and for the briefest of moments, she wondered if all this talk of the daughter he had never met was allowing her to get under his skin.

The soft, unconscious smile that soon appeared on his face she took as a confirmation.

"She sounds wonderful," he said at last, genuinely pleased by Lailah's report. "It's clear you've taken great pains with her. I know you may feel that my opinion on the matter does not matter as I have been so absent from her life, but I greatly approve of how you've raised her so far. You've evidently done an exceptional job."

"I'm not the only one responsible for Eva's progress," Lailah insisted. "Ana is a wonderfully forbearing and supportive mother, and the others…"

"The compliment was meant for you, Lailah, not Ana. Although I do not doubt Ana's sincerity in her affection for our daughter, you forget I know Ana. She's a clever and resourceful woman, but she was never classically trained or educated. I'm sure if left to her own devices, Ana could do well with raising our child, but I am grateful you have been there for her. I feel under your tutorage, my daughter has a far greater chance of reaching her potential and being worthy of not only the name _Dracula_, but _Valerious_ as well."

It was the first time the Count had complimented Lailah in a way that wasn't only genuine, but had nothing ulterior about it. It was a strange occurrence, but the angel found that tremendously pleasing as well.

But because it was the Count, he killed the moment as quickly as it had come, by tacking on, "Although, I would have done certain things perhaps a little differently – less fairytales and more history, for starters," he said with a cheekiness she couldn't help but smile at. "And more time at the piano. Music is not only the food of the soul, it is also an excellent way to exercise the mind," and he made his way over to one of the doors that led to the auditorium. "Speaking of music, their rehearsal is almost done. You don't mind do you? I've always enjoyed Tchaikovsky."

As he said the words, a flute began to play down in the orchestra pit, the final scene of Tchaikovsky's _Eugene Onegin_ starting up. The Count extended his hand, motioning for Lailah to enter, which she did without question, taking a seat in one of the plush chairs in the darkened box, the Count sitting beside her as the strings joined in.

The music, which had started off light, and even a little mournful, swelled as the soprano playing Tatyana stepped onto the stage in full costume, her dark hair pinned back elegantly as she paced about with a tangible sense of solemnity and internal confrontation that was matched perfectly by the music. It had been decades since Lailah had seen this particular opera performed, and though her Russian was rather rusty, the details of the story came flooding back to her as the soprano began to sing.

The opera followed the life of an arrogant hero who had rejected the love of a young woman that would later become the object of his greatest desire. The final scene between the title character, Onegin, and his love interest, Tatyana, had always been a favorite of Lailah's – from Onegin's desperate attempts to possess the one woman he had foolishly rejected, to Tatyana's equally desperate efforts to resist the seduction of his very real and overwhelming passion – a passion come too late, as she was now married.

Lailah had always pitied Tatyana for her temptations, but she also deeply admired her even more for her resilience when she refused Onegin's advances, though it clearly pained her to do so. But sitting in the otherwise empty opera house with the Count seated so closely beside her, Lailah wasn't feeling her usual pity for the star-crossed lovers; especially when the baritone playing Onegin rushed onto the stage, falling at Tatyana's feet in desperation.

The growing longing and heart-wrenching agony between the two players on the stage moved Lailah in a new way she had never felt before as they began to sing the words that loosely translated to "happiness was within our reach."

Oh, how the text pierced her soul, more long-forgotten feelings and yearnings she had buried for so long suddenly swelling in her breast. Her hand was resting on the arm of her chair which was right beside the Count's and she could feel the cool temperature of his flesh radiating off of his skin, his hand dangerously close to hers.

It was when Tatyana declared that she and Onegin could never be together because she was married that Onegin threw himself at her, holding her with such need and desperation, the passion in the music so intoxicating, always building as she begged him to leave her, only to confess how much she loved him.

The confession seemed to relieve the tension in the air for just a moment, but that instant of calm was short lived when Lailah felt the Count's hand gently brush up against her own, a contact that sent electricity through her body as she felt the intensity of his gaze on her. She knew she shouldn't look at him – looking at him would be acknowledgment of what she was feeling.

But that pull, that irresistible pull that started in her groin and spread down her thighs and up into her belly was like a spark to dry thatch, and the instant she turned to meet his gaze, she knew she was doomed. Those feelings she had repressed for centuries – the lust, the insatiable hunger, the need to be filled and possessed by another person, it was overwhelming. This was beyond anything she had ever felt with Azazeal and the way it came on – so suddenly and with such force – it frightened her.

_Your whole life has been a prelude to our union_, the baritone sang and though the Count never uttered a word, it was as if his eyes were speaking those exact words to her. _I was sent to you by God. I'm your guardian till the grave_, the words loosely translated. _You cannot reject me. Forsake this empty society and loveless house._

Lailah could feel her heart pounding in her chest as the Count carefully caressed the top of her hand with his thumb, while Onegin and Tatyana began to sing back and forth to one another, the one pleading for her surrender, the other remaining painfully steadfast. It was a perfect mirror to what was swelling beneath Lailah's skin – the two warring sides of her soul that she was so afraid would rent itself in two.

The music continued to build, along with the tension as Dracula's hand gradually covered hers, the contrasting cool against her warmth only fueling the dangerously growing fire within her.

Her imagination began to run wild.

Although Dracula hadn't moved an inch, Lailah could easily envisage what it would feel like to have his hands on her, his feverish lips on her neck, his body against hers, his hand resting on her knee, smoothing up her leg, beneath her skirt, between her thighs – but before the fantasy could go any farther, the music stopped, snapping her abruptly out of her agitated stupor as she recalled where she was and who she was with.

The intensity of her lust terrified her so profoundly that she quickly recoiled her hand from underneath the Count's, standing so rapidly, she almost knocked over the chair in which she had been sitting. The action startled them both and before he could utter a single remark on how flustered she appeared, she was out of the box and in the dark and empty hallway in a flash. She could see the light at the end of the hall where the stairs were, but before she could begin to make her way toward the exit, he was in the hall with her, the conclusion of the opera becoming muted as the door shut behind him.

"Is everything alright?" he asked cordially, the faintest hint of concern in his eyes.

She couldn't bring herself to answer his question.

She couldn't even bring herself to turn around and look at him.

Lailah was absolutely petrified of the raging heat that burned beneath her skin and the senseless hunger that pounded at her insides and she desperately fought to keep herself in check.

Oh, how foolish she had been, thinking she could just waltz in here and magically get the upper hand. Not after being so far from Heaven for so long, having grown so weak. He was a vampire – and not just any vampire, but the prince of darkness. Vampires were predators by nature, literally built and designed to lure prey.

And here she was, fully conscious of what he was and _who_ he was, and still she walked right into his web like some arrogant fly with absurd delusions of superiority and indestructibleness. Lailah could have kicked herself for being so thoughtless, and the moment she caught onto that glimmer of anger, she desperately clutched onto it as if her very soul depended on it.

She turned on him, eyes full of fury.

"What the hell are you doing?" she snapped, her attack taking him back somewhat. "What's your end-game, your _real_ end-game? Because I don't believe for one second that all you want is for me to join your side of the board as some kind equal. You want me for something. What is it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he defended. "Where is all of this coming from?"

"Oh, stop with the games already!" she groaned with vehement irritation. "Answer the question, Dracula!"

She had no idea why, but she was suddenly shouting at him – something she _rarely_ did. Lailah was usually the epitome of self-control. But Dracula never interrupted her tirade. He stood there, silent, allowing her to purge a small fraction of the frustration boiling in her system. Heaven knew how badly she needed it.

"Why do you insist on being so damn charming and agreeable when we both know you're just trying to manipulate me?" she continued. "Why can't you just live up to your obscene reputation? Why can't you just take what you want from me – or at least _try_ and get it over with? What's with the slow kill? Do you get off on that or something? What the hell is wrong with you?"

When her outburst was over, Lailah finally took a moment to breathe as the agitation in her system began to ebb away and her racing heart began to calm. When her sanity finally returned, she took note of the way he was looking at her.

His expression was peculiar, full of knowing, pity, and a profound amusement.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she demanded.

"You haven't felt it in a while, have you?" he asked her.

"Felt what?"

"Lust."

The word sent an abhorrent chill down her spine and with an exasperated sigh, she dismissed his accusation and turned to leave when he suddenly appeared in front of her, blocking her path. She tried to move around him, but he grasped her arm.

"Lailah, wait…"

Grabbing her, unfortunately, had been the wrong move, for she was already on edge and she pushed him with her free hand as an intense power he had not been ready for shoved him back while her body illuminated with a heavenly light, the force pinning him to the wall.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed.

The action seemed to suck all patience out of the Count, and with the subtle wave of two of his fingers in retaliation, an invisible force swept Lailah unexpectedly off her feet, slamming her back into the opposite wall from him as he replied with a curt, but still civil,

"Don't be rude."

He could feel her struggling against his mental hold, but thanks to an excellent foresight from Verena and some help from Myra the witch, his powers were assuredly stronger than hers – even with all of her fury – and she felt that invisible pressure weigh down on her ankles, waist, and wrists, holding her firmly in place. Her ferocity quickly began to diminish as she realized how dire the situation had become and panic swelled in her chest, though she did her best to conceal it as he straightened his jacket and began to move toward her.

"You know, I've met my share of repressed women in my day, but _you_," and he laughed, waving his finger at her, "you are something else entirely." He had significantly narrowed the space between them now as he stood before her, watching her with careful eyes. "Don't get me wrong, I'm all for suppressing one's lusts for the sake of sexual tension, but you've turned it into a self-destructive form of art. It's not healthy to keep all of that bottled up, Lailah."

She didn't say anything, but the glare she gave him spoke volumes and he tsked.

"Now, now, don't look at me like that – you know perfectly well that I am in the right. How long has it been? Hmm? Fifty years?" He waited for her reply, but she gave him none. "A hundred?" he continued. "Two-hundred? It can't be more than that…"

But her expression was still venomous and he could see from the rage in her eyes, not to mention the scent of desire that she was still giving off, that it was much more than what he had guessed.

He leaned in and gazed deep into her eyes as if he was searching for something. She immediately put up a mental wall to protect her mind, but he wasn't digging through her subconscious, just shuffling about, teasingly scraping at the surface.

"Did you know that I can tell how long it has been just by touching you?" he said, his voice low. He watched as her pupils dilated and that minor, yet irrefutable physical evidence of her attraction made him grin mischievously. He raised his hand and showed her his fingers.

"Don't worry – I'll be a gentleman about it," he promised her with a hint of delight, and she defiantly held his gaze.

Careful not to touch her skin just yet, he pushed her jacket open and off her shoulders so the dark cashmere would slide down to the ground in a heap around her ankles.

The angel donned a simple single-strap black dress, ruched from the hem of her skirt to the top of the bodice, the material hugging every curve and line of her body. She half expected him to break eye contact with her so he could wolfishly gawk, but he held her gaze as his hand moved to hers.

Dracula then touched her hand, and at the contact he saw little sparks in her irises and could hear the slight increase in the beating of her heart. His hand gradually took hers fully before he raised her arm out so it was in front of her and he pivoted his body a bit so he could both touch her extended hand and hold her gaze.

While holding her arm up with one hand, he took his other and ran two fingers down from her middle finger over her palm to her wrist in one slow caress that sent a delicious shudder through her. The caress continued from her wrist to the inside of her elbow, the pads of his fingertips lightly tickling the sensitive flesh of her arm, leaving a delightful electric warmth in their wake and she felt an even stronger shiver shoot down the length of her spine.

"There's that first hundred," he said with the slightest of smiles, still looking deep into her eyes.

Their eyes remained locked as his fingers trailed up the side of her arm to her shoulder and he saw more sparks in the irises of her eyes, a faint light ring of white appearing around the pupil.

"Two-hundred," he said gently when his fingers reached her bare shoulder and he noticed how the tip of her tongue instinctively moistened her lips.

His fingers ran down the length of her throat when she swallowed, feeling the dry click in the center before tracing the protruding bones of her collar and he watched in fascination as that light ring in the center of her eyes grew brighter as her arousal increased. His fingers then began to dip down toward her breasts and he watched as the light suddenly intensified, making the dark color of her eyes appear more vibrant.

Turning his fingers around so he could brush her skin with the back of his knuckles, the slow sweep moved between her breasts where he could now feel the frantic rhythm of her heart beat.

"Three," the vampire whispered, and then his fingertips brushed ever so lightly against the front of her dress, over her abdomen before stopping right above where her navel would be where they lingered for several long seconds. The smell of her heat was intoxicating and it made his mouth water, but he kept his own lust in check, eager not to spoil the moment.

"Three-hundred and fifty years, give or take a decade or two," he concluded. "Azazeal really was your last, wasn't he?"

She didn't have to respond to confirm his guess – the look in her eyes said everything he needed to know.

"Do you know what I heard about you, angel?" he asked, his own eyes beginning to illuminate as he finally allowed himself to take her in, his gaze making several slow sweeps over her body trapped between him and the wall. He was still holding her arm up and he lowered it slowly so it would rest on his shoulder. "I heard that you thrive off of sexual tension, the anticipation, the exquisite agony of always being on edge – not because you like being denied pleasure, but because when that pressure in you erupts, it moves through you in one delicious wave after another, so every time your lover would rock into you, the orgasm was so intense, you would literally glow."

He reached up and touched her breathless lips with the tips of his fingers, loving how radiant and lust-filled her gaze was.

She looked positively ravenous.

"I also heard that when warmed up just right, your juices taste reminiscent of honey, and that your favorite sensation in the world is that of a skilled man's tongue and lips buried between your milky thighs," and he closed in on the space between them, nudging her legs apart just slightly with his knee. "I confess, I'd love to watch you bloom beneath me," he husked, voice dark. "But you prefer to be on top, don't you? That's that dominant streak in you, that insatiable need for control. But you also like to fight for that control, don't you?"

His voice was a purr as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear.

"I'd love to take you," he breathed and he heard the sudden hitch in her breath. "I'd take you here, if you'd let me. Right up against this wall until you came at least twice, once on my fingers and again my cock."

Lailah was both repulsed and horrifyingly aroused, and she waited for him to make a move, to do something, but to her surprise and subconscious chagrin, he never did. Instead, he pulled away from her, not too far, but enough to relieve a bit of the tension he had created between them.

"But I won't ever do any of those things to you, my dear, without your consent – because, although you've given me little reason to, I respect you. I don't always just take what I want."

He then took her chin in his hand and raised her eyes to meet his.

"However," he continued, "you should not fear your lust, Lailah. You should embrace it. It's a natural part of who you are – that desire for pleasure and affection. That's the problem with you angels – so obsessed with purity that you become completely imbalanced. That's why so many of your brothers and sisters end up falling – because they feel that part of them missing and they're all too scared and too repressed to be open about it, open about their more base needs."

His fingers began to caress the upper part of her arm again.

"Luckily for you, my dear, I am no human, so technically speaking, you could act on the impulses I know you're having, that need to jump my bones, if you'll pardon the expression, and you could get away with it. But, and I want to make this abundantly clear for you," and he pointed a finger at her, "when you come to me, and come to me you will – it is inevitable – it will be of your own accord. It will be because _you_ chose to, not because I coerced you into it. You will come to me, you will want it, and when that day comes, I promise to give you exactly what you seek, and more. So much more. I give you my word."

He allowed the silence to reign for several moments, making sure his words would sink in, before he removed her arm from atop his shoulder and took two steps back, giving her more space. She felt the absence of him immediately, and though a part of her was grateful, her treacherous body still ached for more contact.

"In the meantime, however," he continued in normal tones now, and with a wave of his hand she felt the power that had held her pinned to wall release her, "you really should stop thinking the worst of me. I may be part beast, but I am not the monster you assume I am."

Lailah remained fixed to the spot, absolutely silent and still, her eyes locked on him, her expression unreadable. He could tell he had perhaps overwhelmed her, and though he hoped she wouldn't resent him for it, he was certain he hadn't caused any serious damage. Someone had to address the pull between them, and now she could not deny it – not even to herself.

Unwilling to stand in silence any longer, the Count finally excused himself from her presence. When enough time had passed, he would send Helena with instructions for their next meeting, which, he assured her, would be far tamer in comparison to this evening. He could see the disbelief in her eyes, and he didn't have to read her mind to guess her thoughts.

"And I know what you're thinking," he added. "You're undoubtedly surprised that I think you'll want to meet with me again after this, and though you'll tell yourself that it's for the safety of Ana and Eva, deep down there will be a part of you that will want to see me again. It won't happen right away, but it _will _happen."

He left her with that promise and then vanished, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the remnants of her lust in the hall.

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><p><strong>And there's Chapter 11. <strong>

**The opera (in case any of you are interested) is _Eugene Onegin _by Tchaikovsky, based off the novel of the same name by Aleksandr Pushkin. **

**Remember in my author's note for the first chapter when I mentioned that I had been listening to a lot of Russian opera when originally writing this? Yeah... it kind of bled through. Also, I've seen _Eugene Onegin _performed before - the 2013 Met Opera production starring Anna Netrebko and Mariusz Kwiecien. I haven't had the chance to listen to any other productions to compare, but I really enjoyed this one and highly recommend it to any of you opera fans out there. Netrebko is one of my favorite sopranos and Kwiecien is fantastic. There used to be a video on YouTube of their performance of the final scene mentioned in this chapter, but it looks like it was removed. However, if you like opera and get the chance to see it, do! It's tragic and beautiful and who doesn't love Tchaikovsky? Seriously.  
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**Well my dear readers, let me know what you thought of the chapter by leaving a review! Do you like the direction this is headed? Where do you think it's headed? What are your predictions? I'm eager to hear from you!  
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**Thank you again to those who reviewed recently and I'll see you all in the next chapter! **


	12. Chapter 12

**ANOTHER DISCLAIMER: This chapter contains sexual situations. It's not nearly as graphic as it could be, but the suggestions and implications coupled with your own imagination could make it pretty explicit, SO you have been warned. Proceed at your own risk. ****Also - this story was rated "T" for a while, but I've bumped the rating up to "M", just to be safe. **

**Also, I would be ungrateful if I didn't send an ENORMOUS thank you to ****Scarlet Empress, She-Devil Red, Darling Empress, Shawny.a, invisible reader, and Angels in Parachutes for your lovely reviews of chapter 11. So THANK YOU! (insert tackle hug here)**

**We get to hang out with the villains in this chapter, so please do forgive the errors I may have overlooked, and enjoy! **

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><p><em><strong>XII<strong>_

Count Dracula had an unusual pep in his step as he made his way down the hall towards the stairs that led up to Myra's tower. It had only been an hour since he had left Lailah there alone in that darkened corner of the opera house, but he could still smell her faintly on his clothes and the scent was having the most unusual effect on him. The vampire felt almost giddy, not just because everything this evening had gone according to plan, but also because of the validation he had unintentionally received from Lailah that he was having an effect on her.

He had replayed their final moments together in his mind several times now and he could not be more pleased with himself. There was nothing he would have done differently – although there was a part of him that had hoped she would cave right then and there at the opera house, but overall he was relived she hadn't. Dracula had more respect for her sense of restraint than he cared to admit, though heaven knew how much it was taking a toll on the angel. He hadn't seen a look so ravenous and so scorching from a woman in an age and it made him tingly all the way down to the base of his spine.

The Count found Myra in her tower, as expected. The witch had a table in the center of the room with a large map of the world spread out and small bowl of what smelled like Azazeal's blood before her, her fingers soaked in the crimson. She was muttering in a convoluted form of Enochian, her eyes black like endless pits as she hovered her hand over the continent of Asia. North and South America, along with Africa, both poles, and Australia were crossed out in blood. Azazeal was seated in the corner of the room, seemingly fine, though he was watching the witch closely.

"Any luck?" Dracula asked.

"You tell me," Azazeal replied with a hint of bitterness as he eyed the witch. "She's been at it for almost two hours now and apparently I'm not allowed to leave the tower until she narrows down a location, just in case she needs more blood."

Azazeal revealed a jagged blade that was covered in his own blood and Dracula noticed Myra smiling out of the corner of his eye as she hovered her hand over what used to be Russia.

"She was rather ungracious about it, too," the demon added. "Nearly took my arm off!"

"Lucky for you, she didn't."

"I could have put it back," Myra said with a wicked grin.

"You could have asked," Azazeal shot back, his anger only making the witch laugh.

"He's just upset because the only way I could get him up here was under false pretenses," Myra explained. "You men – always thinking with the most sensitive part of your body."

"What, our hearts?" Dracula teased.

"No. Your cocks," Myra replied and Dracula shot a surprised and rather amused expression in the fallen angel's direction. He nearly laughed in response to the scowl on Azazeal's face.

Myra suddenly shouted, the outburst startling both of the men and they watched as she dipped her fingers in the small bowl of blood and drew an "x" across the whole of Asia with a self-satisfied expression.

"Well, at least we won't have to leave home to find the angel stone," the Count mused, his voice full of sarcasm. "Oh, wait – that's the entire bloody European continent! Can't you get a better location? I'll bleed him dry if that's what it takes."

"Hey, I'm right here!" Azazeal shouted.

"No," Myra replied, and she let out a sigh of disappointment. "His blood is too diluted, which means that I am able to pick up traces of areas where the angel stone has rested in the past, as those locations are no longer used, but I can't directly pinpoint anything. All I know is that it's not on any of the other continents, which leaves us with the entirety of Europe."

"Would an actual angel be of use to you?" he asked, thinking he knew just the one, but Myra shook her head.

"No – blood will only get me so far. I need something more powerful. I'm certain there is a more direct spell for locating the stone, but I have no idea what that would be."

Myra revealed a worn leather folio that had been sitting on the edge of the table. Contained within was an assortment of pages that appeared to have been torn out of various spell books. She thumbed through the leaves until she found the one she wanted and she placed it on top of the pile. It was written in Latin and had a small insignia in the corner beside the page number – the Order of the Dragon. It had clearly been torn out of another book, as its end was frayed and the page seemed to begin and end mid-sentence. In the center of a page was a sketch drawing of the stone of angels, and beside it appeared to be a recipe of sorts for a ritual.

"All I have is how to activate and draw out its power," Myra continued. "We can use your angel friend for that. But for locating the actual stone, I'm at a loss. It's guarded by magic that is far beyond my own abilities. I'll keep searching, but for now, all we know is that the stone is somewhere in Europe."

"You told Lailah about the stone, right?" Azazeal clarified and Dracula nodded in confirmation.

"Do you think she's looking for it?"

"Oh, I have no doubt of that," the fallen angel replied. "Knowing her, she probably has the whole lot of them looking for it, scouring every book she can get her hands on."

"Perhaps I should put some of my spies in the surrounding bookstores and shops in the devil's district," Dracula thought aloud.

"I already have some of my own men watching the blocks surrounding that cathedral you mentioned," Azazeal replied. "I'll send a few more to keep an eye on the businesses as well."

"Can they be trusted?"

"My shadows are loyal to me, Count. And I am loyal to you."

"I'm pleased to hear it."

"I don't mean to interrupt, but can you please take this conversation somewhere else?" Myra interjected, leaning over the page of interest, trying to look for something she may have missed before. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"I thought you said you couldn't locate the stone?" Azazeal replied cheekily.

"Doesn't mean I can't keep trying," she answered and the blade she had used on him before appeared in her hand. "Shall we slit your throat and see if that helps?"

Azazeal, refusing to be intimidated, leaned over the table and looked directly into her dark eyes.

"You can cut me wherever you'd like, so long as you give me what I came up here for," he said.

Myra's smile was wicked.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she purred.

"Baby, once you go angel, you never go back."

Dracula rolled his eyes and started to head for the door.

"_Fallen_ angel," Myra corrected. "Now get out. I need to concentrate _free_ of distractions."

"Yes, you do that. Concentrate on finding some stupid stone. I got your stones, right here," and he motioned at his crotch.

"Get out, or I'll cut out those stones instead of your arm next time."

"I'd rather have you score my back with your nails."

"Out!" she shouted, half in laughter. "You insufferable man!"

Azazeal playfully snapped his teeth at her before quickly jogging across the room so he could catch up with the Count and the two men exited together. When they were a good ways down the hall, he finally spoke up.

"So, how did your night at the opera with Lailah go?" he asked, not even attempting to conceal his curiosity.

"Exactly as planned," Dracula replied.

"So when are you going to see her again?"

"I'm going to give her some time simmer for a bit," the vampire explained. "Let her stew in her own juices."

"I wouldn't wait too long, if I were you," Azazeal warned. "If you give her too much time to herself, she'll talk herself out of whatever it is she may feel for you."

"Ah, but you didn't see her eyes, Azazeal," the Count said with a reminiscent sigh. "I've never seen anything like it. That lust of hers – it was palpable. I could have taken her right there if I had wanted to."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because it's too soon. I've gotten under her skin – that much is evident. Now I need to take root in her."

"You really don't go half-way with these sort of things, do you?" Azazeal replied as he turned, walking down a hall that headed in a different direction than the Count.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. I have an itch that needs to be scratched. You know how to find me!" he called and soon he disappeared around the corner.

Dracula caught himself rolling his eyes again as he continued forward until he found himself outside of Verena's chambers. From the hall he could hear the sound of moaning and upon opening the door, he found his bride riding the lap of another man while feeding from a vicious looking bite on the side of his neck.

For Verena, feeding usually involved sex, just as sex usually involved feeding. To her, the two went hand-in-hand, something she had picked up long ago from the Count.

She took note of her master when he entered the room, shutting the door behind him silently as to not alarm to young man whose back had been facing the door. The grin Verena sent the Count was positively wicked as she continued to feed, rocking her hips hard against the human, his moans half in pleasure, half in protest. Before she could drain him dry, she pulled her head back dramatically and pushed him back onto the bed, still riding him, though her hips moved slower this time, more methodically, as if she was purposefully delaying his orgasm.

Dracula leaned up against the bedpost and watched his one and only surviving bride as she went to work on the young man who was still oblivious to the fact that they were being watched.

Realizing she had her master's full and undivided attention, Verena became more audacious in her behavior, her hedonistic cries as she neared the precipice becoming purposefully pronounced as she rested her hands back on the mortal's calves, jutting her naked breasts out of her silk robe and into the open air as the minute remnants of blood from around her mouth began to drip down her chin and neck in a small stream.

Her eyes were fixed on her husband as the human continued to bleed out onto the bed, what was left of his lifeblood going to waste. His heart eventually gave out before he could find his release and it wasn't long before Verena had reached her own climax. When she was done, she remained in her provocative position, pleased by the look of lust in her master's eyes.

He always did love to watch her.

Count Dracula could still remember the first time he had laid eyes on Verena – a timid, humble, and obedient little thing, still beautiful even when she was hidden under her nun's habit. She had been a stubborn one, the hardest conquest he had ever undertaken, but like every woman he came across, she broke eventually, and when she did, she flourished under his hand.

Verena had always been the most attentive student, eager to please and rarely jealous. She had been the most devoted bride he had ever had – more so than that of Verona, Marishka, and Aleera – though Verena was certainly more defiant than they ever had been. But he had come to love that about her. She was compliant, loyal to her very core, but she still defied him on occasion; simply because she understood that he was addicted to the chase, the challenge. And so she made sure he was always chasing her, so he'd never tire of her.

And how could he tire of her?

She was always surprising him – Boris Valerious' bastard daughter, the most pious of saints turned into the vilest of sinners.

And he couldn't have been more proud of her – his greatest creation.

"What are you pondering, my lord?" she asked him, wiping the remnants of blood from her face with one clean swipe of her hand, though before she could lick it off her fingers, he caught her wrist and brought the digits to his lips, holding her gaze as he took them into his mouth, one at a time.

"I was thinking about the first time we met. Do you remember?" he asked, removing his coat and tossing it onto a chair before crawling onto the bed.

"Of course I do," she said, lifting herself off the dead mortal beneath her before kicking him off the bed and lying back on the mattress, leading the Count over to her so he could lie on top of her. The weight of his body squeezed a pleased sigh out of her as she reached up, pulling his hair out of the high ponytail he usually wore it in before raking her nails over his scalp. "I was praying in a chapel in that absurd little convent I was at. The Agapia din Deal. You had been watching me for three nights and had started invading my dreams. I was praying for strength."

"And oh did heaven grant you that strength," he said, pressing his forehead against hers. "It took me three long weeks before you finally let me kiss you."

"And what a kiss that was!" she exclaimed as he buried his face into the crook of her neck while one of his hands rested over a naked breast, his fingers lightly tugging at the stiff peak of her nipple.

"It was a slippery slope after that, wasn't it?" he purred as he showered the flesh of her neck and shoulder with heady kisses before he dragged the tip of his tongue between her breasts and up to her throat.

"So wet and slippery…" she groaned, feeling the evidence of his arousal hard against her thigh.

"Do you remember the night I took you?" he asked, kissing a molten path down her front and he could taste her anticipation in the air.

"Yes," Verena said, the word coming out in a rush of air.

"Do you remember what I did to you?" and his face hovered over the apex between her thighs, his cool breath fanning her heat.

"Yes."

"Do you remember how I made you scream?" he purred darkly, forcing her to bend her knees as he ran his palms slowly down her thighs.

"Yes," she whimpered.

"And how I made you scream all the nights after?"

Verena was trembling from the anticipation, her toes curled, fingers already clutching the linens beneath her, bracing herself. When she whispered her "yes", he rewarded her with a wanton abandon that sent her reeling. It didn't take long for her to reach the edge under the onslaught of his masterful fingers and greedy mouth and when the waves subsided, he allowed her to lie there, basking in her afterglow as he moved up on the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard.

"You're in an astonishingly good mood this evening, my lord," she said after some moments of recovery and she rolled over so she could look up at him.

"This evening has gone over remarkably well," he confessed. "I'm almost afraid that my good fortune is going to run out."

"Ah, but remember? I'm your good luck charm," she teased, smoothing her hand up his firm thigh suggestively.

"That you are."

"So how was your date with the angel?"

"A bit exhausting," he confessed, allowing her to unzip the fly of his pants as she freed his aching need with her deft fingers, returning the favor he had bestowed on her just moments ago. "Being around Lailah is so much work – it's like dancing, where each step is meticulous and calculated, and one misstep could lead to disaster."

His breath caught in his throat for a moment as Verena's lips passed over his hardened length and he carefully stroked her silky hair in an effort to control himself, closing his eyes.

"Oh, but if I could do to her what I did with you, my dear," he sighed, imagining what it would be like to have Lailah in this bed instead of Verena and just the mere thought sent a powerful jolt of excitement through him. "To have such a weapon at my side would be of incredible value to me."

"She is also very beautiful," Verena agreed. "Is what Azazeal said about her true, though? Is the darkness of which he speaks really in her? Will having her please you?" and she took him in her mouth again.

"Oh yes," he said, the words coming out in a rush of air, the hint of a moan caught in the back of his throat. "You should have seen the lust in her eyes, Verena – the ravenous hunger and the fear. She is terrified of what she keeps bottled up. I can still smell her on me… that heat, the arousal… and I barely touched her."

Verena lifted her head, stopping her ministrations before he could have his release and she purred, crawling onto his lap, fingers going to work on the buttons of his shirt.

"But imagine if you did touch her," she said. "You could use those feelings against her."

"Oh, I have every intention of doing so," he assured her. "But I can't shake this feeling…"

"What feeling?"

"That if I don't tread carefully, it'll destroy what I've worked so hard to nurture. She's a stubborn one – more stubborn than you ever were. I can't help but feel like there's something holding her back. Sleeping with the enemy would be no novelty for her. In fact, if she was smart, she'd use sex as a weapon against me," he explained as his bride showered his front and neck with kisses and caressing.

"Does she affect you so, my lord?"

"More than I care to admit," he said, and though he could tell this fact bothered Verena, she kept it to herself and for that he was grateful.

"There has to be more to her insistence on abstinence than just her desires for increased status amongst the angels," Verena pointed out.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, think about it, my love. I think it's safe to say that you could have taken her tonight if you had wanted."

"I could have," he admitted. "Part of me still wishes I had."

"But what would that have achieved, besides a fleeting moment of gratification between the two of you? She would have resented you for your blatant seduction and doing so would have caused more damage than good. You told me a few days ago that your intention isn't to just seduce her body, but her heart as well, to eventually gain her allegiance, her trust."

"That is still my intention, and nurturing her lust would create an excellent opportunity to distract her from her duties."

"But this angel has feelings – deep feelings, I believe – for someone or something that goes far beyond her aspirations for archangel status, and after some consideration, I do believe that these feelings could pose a problem for you in the near future. I was speaking with Azazeal, and he thinks that part of her motivation for casting him aside was because she harbors affection for someone. Affections that neither party can act on for whatever reason. I feel if you don't eliminate this obstacle, it'll make her harder to obtain what you desire from her."

"What kind of…" he began, but the words died in his throat when she suddenly sheathed him inside of her.

Verena moved her hips against him in such a way that soon distracted the Count from their conversation and quickly rendered him incapable of intelligible speech outside of the deep moans and inarticulate muttering in his native tongue. When the orgasm came, it rippled through him, the aftershocks and delicious pulsations lingering for several long minutes as the vampire lord and his bride sat entwined, holding each other in the most intimate sense as they breathed as one.

Gradually, the tensions died, leaving both sated and strangely hollow, and Verena lifted herself off of his lap and sat beside him on the bed, resting her head on his arm.

"What kind of obstacle do you think is holding her back?" Dracula asked, finally completing his earlier question.

"I can't be certain. After all, it's only speculation – but I believe it would be wise to check and be safe before you proceed."

"Do you think Azazeal would know?"

"He says he does not know for certain. But he also mentioned that considering how long she's been away from heaven, her powers should have faded far more than they have by now. He thinks the more powerful archangels could be penetrating Myra's wall around the city. Her magic has no effect on them."

"Then I wonder why they haven't smuggled the child out of the city by now. Or any of the others, for that matter."

"Azazeal had said something about a council of heaven, but I stopped paying attention after that. Perhaps there is some strain at home that you don't know about," Verena suggested and she allowed her words to sink in a bit before continuing. "I suggest you send Azazeal in to watch her, maybe even make contact with her. They have history, the two of them, and I think if anyone can weed that kind of secret out of her, it would be him. Besides, if she is being visited by archangels, he would be able to identify them."

"You are delightfully wicked, did you know that?" he said with a mischievous grin and he kissed her brow affectionately.

"I learned from the best," she said.

She could feel the approval radiating off of him and she smiled, though there was an empty kind of sadness in her eyes that she made sure he did not see.

"Very well. I will give Lailah a few days to cool down and then send Azazeal in. Hopefully he'll be able to get something useful out of her – and that's if she manages to let him within a mile of her."

"He'll find a way," Verena assured him. "He's a lot like you in that respect. You two always manage to find a way."

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><p><strong>Would love to hear your thoughts on this present installment. We are 24 reviews away from another <em>Ink on a Page <em>preview/teaser! **

**Thank you for stopping by and I'll see you in the next chapter! **


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